


Honor Among Thieves

by cassiopeia721



Series: author's favorites [8]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Fire Nation (Avatar), For Want of a Nail, Gen, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Ozai is second but he does not get the second most screentime, Spirit Shenanigans, Spirits, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's fun adventures with cognitive dissonance, characters added in order of appearance not in order of how much they feature, for instance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeia721/pseuds/cassiopeia721
Summary: Father keeps on telling Zuko that he's acting without honor, but a lot of the time he won't explain what exactly Zuko is doing wrong, and what he should do to be more honorable. So, Zuko decides to do some research and ask around about how he should behave honorably.Or: the servants of the Fire Lord's palace develop a soft spot for Zuko, Zuko confuses everyone around him with his particular brand of shout-y, aggressive politeness, and somehow Zuko accidentally ends up leading a revolution.edit: update on the status of this fic in the end notes
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Jee & Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & The Fire Nation (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar)
Series: author's favorites [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069328
Comments: 805
Kudos: 4169
Collections: A:tla, AtLA <50k fics to read, Avidreaders ATLA WIP faves, Best of Avatar: The Last Airbender, Canon Divergent AUs, Fics to forget reality, My Favorite Atla Fics, Quality ATLA, The Best of Zuko, avatar tingz





	1. the Way of the Warrior

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Do You Hear The People Sing?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538337) by [generic__username](https://archiveofourown.org/users/generic__username/pseuds/generic__username). 
  * Inspired by [To Protect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915420) by [ChickadeeChickadoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickadeeChickadoo/pseuds/ChickadeeChickadoo). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm white and live in America, so there may be some things I get wrong about the pan-Asian world of _Avatar: the Last Airbender_. I mean no disrespect, and if you notice something wrong, please (preferably politely) tell me so that I can correct it.

Father’s defining criticism of him is that he acts without honor. 

When Zuko hugs him instead of bowing before him, Father tells him that it was an act of terrible disrespect, a way that Zuko failed to honor his father. When Zuko is unable to summon more than sparks, Father tells him that he has brought dishonor to his family. Worst of all is when Father tells him he has behaved dishonorably and won’t even explain what he is ao disappointed by. It seems like there is an endless list of things Zuko is doing wrong, things that make Zuko dishonorable, and if Zuko could just know _what they are_ — but Father never explains what to do to be honorable, only what _not_ to do. 

Zuko resolves to learn as much as he can about honor so that hopefully he will understand what it is that he is doing wrong. He begins by visiting the palace library and asking the librarian there to bring him scrolls on honor. 

The grey-haired librarian, her brow wrinkled ever so slightly in bemusement, brings him scrolls which detail how to address those of different positions, which explain the rules of Agni Kai, even scrolls which detail how to properly perform a tea ceremony. Zuko reads through all of the scrolls with careful, fastidious concentration. He memorizes the correct bow that he should give Father, he learns that Agni Kai are not mere honor duels between two firebenders but a trial before Agni himself, and he perfects his tea pouring abilities so that he can avoid spilling even a single drop. 

When he next sees Father, Zuko executes a perfect bow, but Father doesn’t even seem to notice, and there’s no opportunity to show what he’s learned about Agni Kai and tea ceremonies. Later that day, Father says he has acted dishonorably once again, this time for failing to learn his first kata as well as Azula, who is a full two years younger than him. 

That night, Zuko meditates for hours, controlling his breathing so that the flame rises and falls with each breath, running through the kata over and over again his head. Somehow, though, he doesn’t think it’s enough. But he’s not sure how to _make_ it enough. 

When Zuko sees his mother next, he bows correctly for their standings, and he asks the servant to let him serve the tea instead so that he can show his mother what he’s learned. His mother nods to show that she has noticed what he has learned and that she is pleased, and the servant hides a smile behind his sleeves at the way Zuko flushes with delight. 

As they sip their tea and feed the turtleducks, Zuko asks, “Mother, what must I do to be honorable?” 

The servant, who had noiselessly appeared to deliver almond cookies, has to take a steadying breath so as not to betray his surprise. Princess Ursa is silent for a moment as she considers the question, then she replies, “As a prince of the Fire Nation, your duty is to your people. In return for the privileges afforded to you by your status, you must protect the inhabitants of your kingdom from harm.” 

The servant hides ever so slightly trembling fingers within their sleeves. He had thought that the princess would speak of the glory of war, of the March of Civilization, or even perhaps of how Prince Zuko must serve Agni in order to be honorable. He would have never guessed she would speak instead of the Fire Nation’s _people_.

Zuko nods thoughtfully and takes a bite of his almond cookie. “This is very good,” he says, turning his golden eyes to the servant. “My compliments to the chef.” 

Heart beating quickly, the servant nods and carries the empty tray back to the kitchen. As he does, he calms himself, squashes down the tiny flicker of hope that had begun to rise within him. Whatever his mother says, Prince Zuko will never consider ensuring the well being of his people his foremost source of honor. It is foolish to hope for as much, and the palace servants are too world-weary for such foolishness. 

That night, Prince Zuko sits quietly as his maid braids his hair back so that it doesn’t tangle in the night. Finally, he asks, “What do you believe honor is?” 

Her fingers grow still in his hair, and she asks, “Prince Zuko?” 

Zuko explains, “My mother said that because I am a prince of the Fire Nation, my honor comes from how well I protect and guide my people. But I don’t know how to do that.” He looks up at his maid. “What should I protect you against?” 

The maid feels a heavy lump form in her throat, and her eyes can’t help but linger on the prince’s wrist, where there is the shadow of a fresh burn in the shape of his father’s hand. _It is we who should be protecting you_ , she thinks. She swallows and answers her prince. 

“There is nothing you must do for me,” The maid murmurs, returning to plaiting his hair back.

Zuko hums in response. “What is your name?” he asks. 

“Huang,” the maid answers hesitantly as she finishes off the braid. 

Zuko turns to her, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Huang,” he says, because one of the scrolls said to always say please and thank you for the help of his peers, and even if Huang isn’t a peer, how is Zuko supposed to protect and guide his people if he doesn’t even thank them for their help? 

Huang’s eyes seem oddly glossy as she bows back, though that may just be the firelight reflecting off of them. 

After that, Zuko makes certain to ask the name of every servant that he meets and to always say please and thank you when they serve him. He doesn’t notice the way their eyes widen when he does, and he certainly doesn’t notice that in the meeting the servants have in the kitchens to review what has made the royal family dangerously angry that week, several of the servants note the change that Prince Zuko seems to be making. Nor does Prince Zuko notice that the next week, the servants temporarily assigned to him are younger and shyer— almost as though someone has decided that he is a safe (or at least _safer_ ) master for their more vulnerable peers. 

Zuko continues asking around, but all of the servants he asks seem just as bemused as Huang was. Zuko can’t help the coil of hurt that twists in his stomach; do they think that he has fallen so far that he won’t even _try_ to be honorable? Yes, as Father continually reminds him, he isn’t very _good_ at being honorable, but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to totally _give up on it!_

Finally, one guardsman, who tells him that his name is Qin Lee, says that he thinks he might know something that would help Zuko understand how to be honorable. 

“My father, and his father before him, taught me the Way of the Warrior,” Qin Lee says hesitantly. 

Zuko nods encouragingly, his eyes glued onto Qin Lee. 

“The Way of the Warrior is a series of seven tenets that a true warrior must follow,” Qin Lee explains.

“What are the tenets?” Zuko asks eagerly. 

“The first tenet is righteousness,” Qin Lee tells him. “A true warrior will act justly, using their skills to fight against those who behave immorally.” He’s about to explain the second tenet, when Huang appears, a quickness in her step that indicates a hint of panic. 

“Prince Zuko, you are late to your lesson with Master Haruhi,” Huang tells him. Zuko nods and then turns back to Qin Lee to bow shallowly and say, “Thank you, Qin Lee.” 

Qin Lee bows back, much more deeply than the prince had bowed to him, and watches the prince follow Huang to his lesson. It is one thing to hear the rumors about the young prince, but it is another to see the prince’s actions, he thinks with a bare, careful hint of hope. 

Qin Lee is still standing at his post when Prince Zuko returns from his lesson with Master Haruhi. Although he’s washed up before returning, there is still evidence of his effort in the slight sheen of sweat remaining on his face, and in the striped burns that mark his knuckles where Master Haruhi lashed him with a whip of flame for his failure. 

(Worse yet than the whip of fire, Zuko thinks, is the look in his father’s eyes as he watched his son being punished. Father didn’t even need to speak for Zuko to hear the usual, unspoken criticism.)

Still, despite the evidence of his effort, Prince Zuko turns to Qin Lee with a set expression on his face and asks, “What is the second tenet?” 

“The second tenet,” Qin Lee tells him, “is courage. A true warrior lives life fully and completely, instead of shrinking.” He does not have to be prompted to tell Zuko the third. “The third tenet is compassion. A true warrior helps at every opportunity they see, and if they cannot find one, they go out of their way to make one.” He bows his head slightly. “Much like how the Fire Nation has seen an opportunity to enlighten the other nations in our ways in the form of the March of Civilization.” 

He does, however, hesitate at the fourth tenet. Not so much that Zuko has to prompt him, but nearly. Finally, Qin Lee makes his decision. “The fourth tenet is respect. A true warrior does not need to be cruel to prove their strength.” His heart pounds quickly in his chest. This statement could be viewed as insulting to the Fire Lord and the rest of the royal family; the entire family (perhaps excluding Prince Zuko and Princess Ursa, although the servants are still cautious about that) _does_ like to be cruel to prove their strength. 

But Prince Zuko only nods thoughtfully. “And the fifth tenet?” 

Qin Lee lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. “The fifth tenet is honesty. A true warrior always keeps their word. The sixth tenet is loyalty; a warrior must always remain true to those that they are bound to. The seventh tenet is self-control. A true warrior has control over their actions, much like how a good firebender has control over their flames.” 

Prince Zuko once more bows shallowly to Qin Lee. “Thank you,” he says and returns to his chambers. 

Zuko takes Qin Lee’s words to heart. The next time Master Haruhi cracks a whip of fire over his knuckles, he thinks of the second tenet and refuses to shrink away, instead standing straight and unflinching. Thinking of the third tenet, he keeps his eyes out for opportunities to help those around him. When no opportunities present themselves, Zuko _makes_ an opportunity to help them, by asking the librarian, Anala, if she would like his help organizing the library, by sharing hotcakes with Huang on her birthday, by visiting Qin Lee when he’s on duty because it must be boring to stand in the same place for so long, and Qin Lee seemed to enjoy telling him about the seven tenets of the Way of the Warrior.

Qin Lee lets him hold his dual dao, explains that Zuko needs to think of them as not two separate weapons, but two parts of a single whole. Zuko listens attentively as Qin Lee explains basic moves, as he shows Zuko how to stand so that he is hard to topple, how to block. Qin Lee seems to gain pleasure from teaching him, so Zuko makes certain to visit whenever he has time.

Part of it comes from a place of selfishness, as ashamed as Zuko is to admit it. Azula is learning so much more quickly than him; her flames are hotter and denser, and she seems to be able to pick up kata after only practicing them a few times, whereas it will take Zuko weeks or months to learn the same thing. It helps, Zuko finds, to know that there is one thing, at least, that he is better than Azula at. 

As the gap between Zuko and Azula grows, Father becomes more and more disappointed in Zuko. His criticisms become harsher and harsher, and when Azula makes fun of Zuko, he just laughs. Later, Azula’s games become more physical; she pushes him into the turtleduck pond and then traps him hanging by his neck on the ropes they like to climb for fun so that he has to burn through to avoid choking. 

Whenever Zuko falls for one of Azula’s tricks, Father tells him that as he is two years older than his sister, he should be clever enough not to be tricked. He should have dodged Azula’s push, should not have allowed himself to be trapped. 

It’s after Azula dares him to climb onto the roof, and then pushes him off, that Zuko has an idea. Even if in the end Azula pushed him off, Zuko had been surprised to find he was a better climber than Azula; more agile and sure-footed. Perhaps he doesn’t need to be stronger than Azula; perhaps he can be lighter, quicker. He practices being stealthy, learns to place his toes down first and walk with silent steps, watches Ty Lee’s acrobatic moves and copies the ones that he thinks might be useful, and on nights when he can’t sleep, sometimes he practices slipping up onto the roof to watch the stars. 

Over time he grows better. His firebending is improving, although slowly enough that Father doesn’t praise him. He’s gotten agile and swift enough that he can often evade Azula when she comes to play her “games” with him, and Qin Lee tells him that he’s developed a solid foundation when it comes to the dual dao. 

Unfortunately, somehow word of what Zuko has been doing reaches his father’s ears. Father tells him that is dishonorable for a firebender to wield a weapon other than flames, as it indicates that their flames are weak. 

His lips twist in disgust as he looks down at Zuko. “I suppose, if you do not have the skill to wield fire, you must wield _something_.” He sighs. “It is not acceptable for a prince of the Fire Nation to learn swordsmanship from a mere…” He sneers, “ _peasant_. You will live and train with Master Piandao until he deems you a master.” 

Zuko kneels, pressing his palms and forehead against the floor. Part of this is out of respect for his beloved father, of course, but he also does it to hide the grin that threatens to burst out across his face. He knows this is meant to be a punishment, time that he is forced to spend away from his family and his rightful place in the palace, but he can’t help but think excitedly about the fact that he is going to learn swordsmanship from a true master!

Zuko enjoys his time with Master Piandao. Master Piandao doesn’t whip his knuckles with lashes of flame when he does something incorrectly, and he is an excellent swordsman. He tells Zuko to play to his strengths and has Zuko focus on agility and stealth. He also teaches Zuko the basics of unarmed combat, without firebending, as well as making sure Zuko doesn’t fall _too_ much farther behind his sister. Zuko is most pleased of all, however, by what Master Piandao teaches him about honor. 

Master Piandao tells him that as a warrior, he must not begin a fight without good reason. He explains to Zuko that there are three levels of violence; the first, primary level violence, being violence that harms but only temporarily, such as a cut to the arm; the second, secondary level violence, being violence that blinds or deafens, such as a slash to the eyes; and the third, tertiary level violence, being lethal violence, such as slitting someone's throat. He tells Zuko that he should only respond in kind to what his opponent does to him; he should, not, for instance, kill a man for punching him or blind a man just for insulting him. 

Zuko listens intently, and adds this to his repository of knowledge about honor, along with what he’s learned of bows and Agni Kai and tea serving, along with what his mother said about protecting his people, along with the seven tenets of the Way of the Warrior. 

(While Zuko is with Master Piandao, he receives a gift from his Uncle Iroh; an Earth Kingdom knife, reading _never give up without a fight_. Zuko adds that to his repository, too.)

Zuko returns to the palace two years later, when Master Piandao declares that there is nothing more for him to teach Zuko. Practically the first thing Zuko does, as soon as he is able, is to visit Qin Lee and excitedly show him the dual dao which Zuko forged himself, with Master Piandao’s supervision. 

Qin Lee is surprised, listening silently as Prince Zuko excitedly details all that he’s learned. He, along with the other servants, assumed that Prince Zuko would be cowed by Prince Ozai’s punishment, would return to the palace hardened by his time away, unwilling to spare the servants care and notice any longer. But that does not seem to be true at all. 

That night, Prince Zuko thanks Huang for braiding his hair before bed, just as he always had before he left to train with Master Piandao. And the next morning, he visits Anala in the library and gives her several scrolls which Master Piandao had duplicates of, which he said Prince Zuko could keep. 

“I thought that if I gave them to you, I would still be able to read them when I want to, but others could read them as well,” Prince Zuko explains shyly. 

“My thanks, Prince Zuko,” Anala answers with a smile that makes her papery skin wrinkle. 

It is shortly after Prince Zuko’s return that everything changes. Fire Lord Azulon dies, and Princess Ursa disappears, never to feed turtleducks with her son or give him advice again. Prince Zuko mourns, in fact, seems to mourn far more than his father the new Fire Lord does. The servants are quieter, now, and Uncle Iroh, despite the words on the knife he gave Zuko, seems to have given up. He is sad and grey, and even before he leaves on his spirit quest, he seems to be barely there. Prince Zuko knows that the death of Lu Ten has filled him with grief, but he still misses the Uncle Iroh who always seemed to have time for him, back before the Siege of Ba Sing Se. 

Prince Zuko returns to training with Master Haruhi, but when he can get away with it, he and Qin Lee spar. Occasionally, Prince Zuko visits Master Piandao, officially, to make sure that he has not slipped in his training, but unofficially, because Prince Zuko and Master Piandao are rather fond of each other. He often brings back scrolls for the library, and a few times even a scroll or two that he picked out especially for Anala because he thought that she might like them. 

Uncle Iroh eventually returns from his spirit quest, but although he seems a little better, he is still not the same man who left the palace determined to conqueror Ba Sing Se. Some of the change is good (he is kinder to the servants) but almost all of it is bad; his hair is greyer, and he seems to have aged many years. 

Prince Zuko is crown prince now, and as such he is determined that when he becomes Fire Lord, he will do right by his people. Part of that is that he must understand his duties, so he begs and cajoles until Uncle Iroh agrees to bring him to a war meeting. 

Prince Zuko is determined to conduct himself with honor. He stays silent, just as Uncle Iroh told him; he doesn’t even make eye contact with anyone there, except when he nods to the tea server to thank her for filling his cup. But when he hears the generals talking of sacrificing an entire division, a division of new recruits, he thinks of the sixth tenet, loyalty— _a warrior must remain true to those that they are bound to,_ and, the first tenet, righteousness— _a true warrior will act justly, standing up against those who behave immorally_. 

Prince Zuko can’t help but jump to his feet, shouting, “You can’t sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation. How can you betray them?” 

Even as Father tells him how disrespectful he was, Zuko can’t quite find the proper amount of shame within him. Yes, he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the general should not have proposed such a disloyal and immoral plan! So Prince Zuko accepts the Agni Kai, certain that he can beat the wizened old general and regain the honor he lost by interrupting. 

Zuko controls his breathing, just as he has been taught, as he waits for the signal. When the sun strikes exactly noon, the fire sages witnessing the Agni Kai strike the bell, and he turns to face his opponent. But it is not the old general— it’s his _father_.

Zuko prostrates himself before his father, unable to stop his tears as he pleads for forgiveness. Father approaches, telling him to get up, to stand and fight, but Zuko will not fight his own father. He can’t stop his tears from flowing as he begs his father to forgive him. 

His father reaches for his face and for a single moment, Zuko believes that his father will wipe the tears from his face and pull him to his feet, pull him up to stand by his side, forgiven. But instead, Father says, “You will learn respect, and suffering will you be your teacher,” and then reaches to cradle Zuko’s cheek, flames licking between his fingers.

Zuko screams, not just from the horrific pain that blinds his senses, but also because this is _not supposed to be happening_. He is not supposed to be in an Agni Kai with his own father, Father is not supposed to be burning his face off in front of the entire court—

Some part of his mind that struggles to cling to what makes sense reminds of what he has learned of Agni Kai. Agni Kai end when the last flames of the losing opponent go out; by only burning a small part of his face, his father is condemning to him to a long, painful death as he will have to wait until the fire spreads far enough to kill him. 

The flames aren’t catching. Father presses his hand harder into Zuko’s face. 

As Agni Kai are not just honor duels between two firebenders but also trials before Agni himself, Zuko recalls distantly, firebenders have the power to summon fire, but not to control whether or not it spreads. Agni himself decides whether or not the loser of a fight will live or die. 

Father presses his hand harder, like he can _make_ the flames catch, but they don’t, they don’t, they don’t, it just _hurts_ , hurts so much that black swims in his vision. Father’s flames are fading to black smoke, the fight ending, and he lifts his hand from Zuko’s cheek, saying, “For your cowardice in refusing to fight, you, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, are _banished_.” 

“For how long?” Zuko chokes out. His throat is raspy and dry with smoke, his heart pounding a rapid tempo in his chest. He can hardly believe that any of this is real. 

Father laughs. Some part of Zuko that he tries to ignore thinks, if the rules of the Agni Kai didn't say the duel ended when the flames went out, Father might try again, and see if the flames catch this time. “Until you capture the Avatar himself," Father tells him. 

Darkness consumes Zuko’s field of view. 

When Zuko wakes, the room is swaying around him. “W—where am I?” he chokes out. His throat still feels raspy and dry, and he can taste the smoke of his father's flames on his tongue. 

“You’re on the _Wani_ ,” comes an unfamiliar voice from near him. “I am Lieutenant Jee.” 

Zuko frowns in confusion. That doesn’t explain _anything_ , he thinks with frustration. 

“Your father banished you,” Uncle Iroh says. 

A wave of pain rolls through Zuko as he remembers. But then he remembers the knife Uncle Iroh gave him. _Never give up without a fight_.“I need to capture the Avatar,” he says. 

“Prince Zuko,” comes Lieutenant Jee’s hesitant voice, “That was clearly a parting taunt— your father knows you’ll never be able to actually _capture the Avatar—_ ”

But Zuko can’t hear Lieutenant Jee’s voice over his own racing thoughts. They will check the Air Temples first, he thinks. He will need to train, to train harder than ever before so that he’ll be ready to face, and capture, a one-hundred-and-twelve-year-old master of all four elements. He will need to be clever, strong, and persistent. But if he is, he may be able to regain his honor. 

_Never give up without a fight,_ Zuko thinks again, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a grim smile. He _will_ find and capture the Avatar, if it’s the last thing that he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The seven tenets of the Way of the Warrior in this fic are based off of Bushido, with some changes to better fit the fic and world. I thought that would fit well with Qin Lee (and then later Zuko) using dual dao, as samurai would traditionally wear and use dual swords as well. 
> 
> The levels of violence that Master Piandao talks about are based off of the initial lecture my Martial Arts teacher gave us before we actually started learning how to do strikes and kicks and all that. 
> 
> The idea of the servants meeting weekly to discuss what angered the royal family comes from the wonderful fic Gossip Lord Zuko by RejectsCanon. Similarly, the detail about Azula hanging Zuko from a rope as a prank comes from another fic, although I can't recall the name.
> 
> edit: the fic is "positive affirmation" by blueseam, which I highly recommend!


	2. Servants' Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalama has been serving tea in the war room for years, ever since the others realized that no matter how anxious she gets, her hands never shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I should probably pace myself  
> also me: haha google docs goes brrrr

Kalama has been serving tea in the war room for years, ever since the others realized that no matter how anxious she gets, her hands never shake. It’s not so bad of a job; Kalama has learned to be small, to bow into herself, to walk silently, so that none of them notice her, so that she can slip through the room, a shadow that no one acknowledges. 

(Sometimes, she thinks that maybe even if she was large and broad as a mountain, straight-backed as any proud noble, as loud-footed as any clumsy, stomping teenager, that still none of them would notice her. Here in the palace, servants are invisible unless something goes wrong.

But Kalama tries not to think about this. The important thing is that no one notices her.)

No one, except for young Prince Zuko, only thirteen years old and already attending a war council. Kalama’s heart skips in her chest as he makes eye contact with her and nods his thanks; after years of being totally invisible, of making herself totally invisible, this small acknowledgment is jarring. Still, Kalama’s fingers never shake, even when she’s anxious or surprised. So she finishes smoothly pouring the tea and moves onto the cup of the next person at the table. 

Usually, Kalama does her best to ignore the planning of the war council, but she can’t help but find herself paying attention when she hears them mention the forty-first division. That is the division that contains her younger brother, fresh out of training and green as a baby bamboo shoot. 

“But the forty-first division is entirely new recruits,” an older soldier asks, stroking his long beard. “How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion?” 

The general’s next words make Kalama’s heart go as cold as if a waterbender had frozen it in her chest. “I don’t. They’ll be used as a distraction while we mount an attack from the rear." He laughs, and it is a cruel sound. "What better to use as bait than fresh meat?” 

Please, Kalama thinks, surely _someone’s_ going to speak against this plan? But even as she thinks that she is already mourning the death of her brother, thinking of how best to arrange his shrine. 

“You can’t sacrifice an entire division like that!” It’s the young Prince Zuko, only thirteen years old, rising to his feet as he stands up for Kalama’s brother. Kalama bows her head, allowing her hair to obscure the twin tears that are trailing down her cheeks.

Although Prince Zuko’s impassioned plea falls on deaf ears, Kalama resolves to tell the other palace servants of what he did at the weekly servants meeting in the kitchens that following night. Someone needs to know of his bravery, Kalama thinks, needs to know that their prince— this young prince whose own father burns him for not bowing deeply enough when he greets him— had spoken up in the war council, in front of the highest and most respected generals in the land, risking his father’s wrath... for _them_. For his _people_.

Kalama waits for the next night, carrying what has happened within her, its weight and heat like a slow-burning ember in her chest. _I will make sure someone recognizes your courage,_ she tells Prince Zuko in her mind. _I will make sure someone recognizes your honor._

By the following night, however, the palace is abuzz with different, newer tidings. Prince Zuko has been banished by his father for cowardice, and will only be allowed to return if he is able to capture the Avatar. Usually, the palace servants care little for the disputes between nobility, but the palace servants are cautiously fond of Prince Zuko. He is known among them for never having burned a servant for a mistake, and, even more notably, for actually being _friendly_ with some of them. 

According to the librarian, a woman named Anala, Prince Zuko often brings her scrolls to add to the library, and he helps her with the organization of the shelves when he has the time. Anala even claims that Prince Zuko bought a scroll especially for her on her birthday, a claim so incredible Kalama would disbelieve if not for how respected and trusted the old librarian is. 

So the palace servants are a bit upset, especially because there is a guard who claims that the reason why Prince Zuko was banished was refusing to fight his own father in an Agni Kai. He also says that the Fire Lord refused to accept Prince Zuko’s bent-kneed, head-pressed-to-the-floor surrender, and instead tried to set him alight— but Agni intervened, and he only succeeded in burning Prince Zuko’s face, and not charring his bones so fully that there would be no need for funeral rites, as has been known to happen in some Agni Kai. 

“There’s no way that that’s true,” the head of the scullery scoffs. “An Agni Kai? Against his own father? What reason would the Fire Lord have to do that? It may be true that sometimes Fire Lord Ozai punishes his son for his mistakes, but he wouldn’t try to kill his own son.” Unspoken, the plaintive, pleading, _right?_ hangs off the end of her sentence. Kalama has heard it in her younger brother's voice, back when he would ask her, "There aren't monsters under the bed, right?" 

“I think I saw something that could explain it,” Kalama speaks hesitantly. The others all turn towards her, wide-eyed and expectant, and Kalama describes the events of the war council, ginger as cautious fingers gently exploring a tender wound. 

“One of the generals wanted to trick an Earth Kingdom battalion,” she explains, tracing the curve of her tea cup’s handle with one wistful finger. “They were going to draw the battalion in, then attack from the rear. And they were going to do this…” she takes a deep breath, “they were going to do this by using a division of new recruits as bait.” She glances up, her amber eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “The forty-first division.” 

There is silence. They all know that Kalama’s younger brother is in the forty-first division; after the deaths of her mother and father at the hands of rebelling Earth Kingdom villagers in the colonies, she has clung tightly to her brother, and his departure has affected her greatly. 

Kalama takes a slow, deep breath, as carefully controlled as any firebender. “Prince Zuko spoke up.” Around her, hands tighten until they are white-knuckled around the handles of their owners' teacups, eyebrows rise incredulously to brush against graying hairlines, fire-toned eyes with the wrinkles of years of stress around them widen in shock. “He said…” She glances up, revealing a slight smile that tugs at her cheeks, “he said, ‘you can’t sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation. How can you betray them?’”

There is a ringing silence. Another tea server, this one a bit older than Kalama, recalls bringing almond cookies to Prince Zuko and Princess Ursa to eat by the turtleduck pond some years ago, and thinks, _he listened after all_. 

Kalama’s eyes drop back down to her cooling cup of tea. “The Fire Lord was very angry,” she says hesitantly. “He told Prince Zuko that he had behaved disrespectfully and dishonorably. Prince Zuko agreed to an Agni Kai, and…” she bit her lip, then confessed, “He was so confident, and the general was so old, that I thought… maybe he would be able to win, and then out of respect for Prince Zuko’s win, the generals would have to find a new plan...”

There is silence once more, as they all grapple with the concept, struggle to imagine a world that might have been— one where Prince Zuko fought a fire duel against a general and saved an entire division of young, bamboo-sprout-green recruits. It's an impossible daydream, as fleeting as a ray of sun on a cloud-cloaked day, but it still brings warmth. 

Kalama shakes her head mournfully, bringing them out of their daydreams. "But I think that I was wrong. I think... he didn't have to fight the general after all." 

“By speaking out of turn in the Fire Lord’s war council, he disrespected the Fire Lord himself,” Anala fills in grimly. “So the Agni Kai... the Agni Kai was with his own father.” 

There is a long moment of silence, and then the guard who had witnessed the Agni Kai chuckles wetly and whispers, “to think that they say he was banished for cowardice…” 

Kalama looks up from her tea. She is not a firebender, but there is a light in her eye such that one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. She does not speak, but they all know what she is thinking. 

The entire palace is curious about the story of the banished prince, from the nobles who watched from the sidelines as the fire did not catch, did not spread, no matter how hard Fire Lord Ozai pressed— from even those nobles, to the lowliest servant tasked with scrubbing the soap scum from between the bathhouse tiles. In fact, the entire capital is curious; perhaps more curious than the palace, because they know less. The nation, too, is wondering; and in the colonies, as word begins to go out that Crown Prince Zuko is no longer allowed in Fire Nation territory, on pain of death, there are many who would like a little bit more explanation for why their crown prince has been banished than just “cowardice”. 

The palace of the Fire Lord is not a place where gossip is common. Like many things there, gossip is dangerous for the palace servants. But Prince Zuko, with his kind words and the way he had never hurt them for mere mistakes, had made things less dangerous. Whispers begin to spread, fragmented and cloaked in metaphor. 

In the scullery, as her little flock scrubs the nobles’ clothing, the head of the brood tells a tale of a young dragonling, who stood up against his father when he suggested sacrificing a clutch of eggs in order to lure in his enemies— and, for his bravery, was burned and banished.

In the gardens, Old Man Genisto tells his subordinates about how Agni can choose to spare his chosen from burning. He explains how this is why, despite the endless sun of their island nation and the pale skin that is common among the people of the Fire Nation, sunburns are rare. Similarly, during an Agni Kai, whether or not fire catches is used as an indication as to the worthiness that Agni judges that person to be, Old Man Genisto adds lightly. His subordinates exchange wide-eyed glances. _Is he—_ they mouth at each other. Humming to himself, Old Man Genisto continues to clip the jasmine-rose bushes as though he has no idea what a stir he’s caused. 

Among the guards, there is an odd interest in the forty-first division. Most never spared a thought for the forty-first division before, but now, during shift changes and meals in the mess hall, guards ask, “How’s the forty-first doing?” with a wary, expectant air, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

The servants whose families live in the Capitol are allowed one day a week to visit with their loved ones. Over dinner, among notes of the newest court fashions and reports of clever Princess Azula’s prodigal advancements in firebending, servants tell their families folk tales that have begun spreading among the palace servants. 

“Only folk tales,” they assure, but the palace servants have always been too shy and wary to tell folk tales in the past, so their families listen closely as the servants tell about a banished dragonling, about how Agni himself chooses whether or not a firebender will catch alight or survive during an Agni Kai, about how all of the guards are asking after the forty-first division. 

The servants speak too of Prince Zuko. They speak of him sharing hotcakes with his maid on her birthday, of him bringing scrolls for the librarian, of him sparring with a guardsman who he had befriended. 

In the capitol, whispers spread. Mere rumors. Rumors that Prince Zuko was not banished for incompetence, but for standing up for the forty-first division when the generals had threatened to use them as bait. Rumors that brave Prince Zuko had been spared by Agni himself. Some even say, in low voices when everyone else is asleep in their beds, that perhaps the Fire Lord had been wrong. 

Merchants delivering supplies in and out of the capitol hear these rumors and bring them with them on their journeys back home; a good yarn is almost as important for travel as a proper bedroll, after all. 

Colonists look to merchants for tales from home, along with the spices that make Earth Kingdom food taste a little bit more familiar. They come home from the market not just with supplies, but with news. Fascinating, _striking_ news, news that spreads far and wide through the colonies, quick as spreading fire. 

The children of minor noblewomen play with the children of maids. There’s a new children’s game going around, one some call Dragons, and others call Banishment. The children take turns playing the angry father, determined to sacrifice the dragonling’s unborn sibling, and the determined dragonling, fighting to snatch the egg (or rather, ball) back from his father’s murderous grasp without being touched on the left side by the father— for if the father touches them on the left side, then the eggs will be lost, and the dragonling will be burned and banished. 

Noblewomen listen to their children tell about their days of play and schoolwork as they tuck them into bed. Their fingers grow still on their blankets as they hear about the premise of their childrens’ favorite new game. Some of them think of how they felt, sitting silent and shocked, as Crown Prince Zuko begged for his father’s forgiveness through his tears. Some of them think of the relief they felt when Fire Lord Ozai reached gently for his face, of how they were sure he would wipe away his son’s tears. Some of them recall thinking, _look at our Fire Lord’s mercy!_ right before Fire Lord Ozai proved his _lack_ of mercy by setting his hand alight even as he cupped his son’s cheek. 

The Fire Lord is not happy with this development, of course. He tasks his daughter with finding the source of the leak, and find it she does, with the same predatory precision that will one day allow her to create lightning. Kalama, along with all of the guards who witnessed the Agni Kai, are sent to the Boiling Rock for spreading state secrets. Kalama steps onto the steel gondola with her head high. Even now, her hands do not shake. 

It is difficult to stop children from playing games, to stop merchants from gossiping with their costumers over their wares, to stop bards from amusing their drunken clients with folk tales put to music. 

Even in Boiling Rock, Kalama hears the very guards who treat them so cruelly asking after the forty-first division. (After all of the attention the forty-first division has gotten, there is no chance of using them as bait; by now, the Dai Li has heard about the war council’s potential plan twenty times over. Everyone knows that the forty-first division is safe, at least from that particular danger. Still, they ask about the forty-first division, as a reminder that _we saved them, Prince Zuko stood up for them and we learned of it and we looked upon what had been proposed, what our Crown Prince was banished for standing up against, with clear and unblinking eyes for so long that the war council itself was forced to blink first—_ )

When they’re allowed into the yard in shifts so that the firebenders among them can get enough sun to survive, Kalama hears talk about how Agni himself chooses whether or not someone will burn. When burnt jook is scraped into their bowls at mealtime, there are whispers about how Prince Zuko shared hotcakes with his maids on their birthdays. When the inmates complain in low voices about the unjust manner many of the guards behave in, sometimes they too complain in low voices about the unjust manner of others in power, others who, just like the guards, react with flame and forced isolation when the offense was no true offense at all.

Kalama listens to this talk. She pours her bland tea with an untrembling hand, and she smiles a gleaming dragon’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all of the kudos and comments! The amount of positive reinforcement I've been getting from you guys is absolutely insane, and I love you all for it <3
> 
> Kalama is inspired by the OC Jie from _a nation held_ by snowdarkred. If you have not read that fic already, you absolutely should ASAP bc it is legit so. good.


	3. Prince in Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weeks immediately after his banishment are the worst in Zuko’s life, worse even than the weeks following his mother's disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Honor Among Thieves_? more like Lucy coming up with increasing descriptive metaphors for 10k words!

The weeks immediately after his banishment are the worst in Zuko’s life, worse even than the weeks following his mother's disappearance. Despite the resolution that Zuko has made, the impulse to simply give up still hounds him like a badger-dog snapping at his heels. Zuko’s wound is a constant reminder of his dishonor, one which he can never forget. Every smile is greeted with an answering stab of agony, every word he speaks balanced by the pain he must endure to form it. 

Although his injury should not physically restrict him from training, Zuko finds himself exhausted by even the slightest exertion. He cannot eat solid food, as the action of chewing causes so much pain that it makes him gag. Uncle Iroh insists that he not even leave his bed, and despite himself, Zuko is so exhausted that he barely even protests—even though he knows that the honorable course of action would be to begin training immediately. Instead, during hours that should rightfully be dedicated to training, Zuko finds himself drinking endless bowls of broth, trying not to flinch too noticeably as the medic changes his bandages (more at the look on his face when he sees the wound than anything else) and fruitlessly attempting sleep. The only productive time that Zuko manages is that which he spends relaying his plans to Lieutenant Jee— and even that is marred by Zuko’s dishonor, which stains every part of his life like spilled ink blotting out careful calligraphy. 

Zuko sees the way Lieutenant Jee looks at him. Lieutenant Jee's eyes linger on Zuko’s bandaged wound, and although he doesn’t say anything, he conveys skepticism at Zuko’s plans with everything from the hesitant line of his body as he sits at Zuko’s bedside (another disgrace, that a prince of the blood is reduced to _giving orders from a sickbed_ ) to the very creaks of his armor, which somehow convey his emotions more eloquently than his facial expressions ever do. 

Zuko finds himself hurrying to justify himself, despite the way that each additional word he speaks causes his cheek to spasm in agony, despite the way that just like with Father and Azula he only seems to be able to dig himself deeper and deeper with each attempted escape. Lieutenant Jee’s eyebrows rise and rise as Zuko explains that yes, they will be checking the Western Air Temple first, _yes_ he understands that the Western Air Temple is built hanging from the underside of a cliff, _yes_ he knows that the air nomads exclusively accessed it using air bison _why is that even relevant_ , and most of all, _yes_ he plans to climb up into it! 

Zuko suspects that the Lieutenant, who is known to be something of a war hero, grates at having to take orders from a teenager who is too weak to even leave his sickbed. Zuko can hardly blame him, but that doesn't mean he enjoys having another obstacle in his path.

The matter worsens when Zuko’s wound becomes infected. He is barely coherent, instead existing in a hazy cloud of half-sleep. The world around him seems as thin and insubstantial as high mountain air, and he struggles to keep down even broth and tea. To his eternal shame, the pain retching causes him is so great that Zuko actually begins to weep. His salty tears soak through his bandage, and Zuko’s breath hitches at the absolute anguish that the salt in his wound causes him. It feels like his face is aflame once more. Father is pressing down harder now, Zuko thinks, trying to make it catch alight… the mountain air grows thinner and thinner around him as Zuko’s breaths become shallow and quick, and Zuko is quickly lost in memories. 

Unbeknownst to Prince Zuko, the torch outside of his door flickers erratically in time with his rapid breaths, spilling crackling sparks across the metal floor. Lieutenant Jee, who is heading down the hall in search of the company of the esteemed General, is unable to prevent the worry that rises within him at the sight. Abruptly the flame is completely extinguished, snuffed out completely and fully, and Lieutenant Jee forces himself into action. Fire flares in one palm, and with the other he pushes open Prince Zuko’s door. Prince Zuko may despise him, as is clear by the way he bites out his words through gritted teeth whenever Lieutenant Jee confirms that the prince is indeed serious about going through with his absurd, reckless plans, but Lieutenant Jee still has a duty to his commanding officer, bratty teenager or otherwise. 

At the sight of him, Prince Zuko flinches backward in his bed, his shoulders curling inwards and his legs pulling close to his chest like a turtleduck drawing into its shell. His unbandaged eye is fixed on the flame in Lieutenant Jee’s hands. He doesn’t appear to notice that even though Lieutenant Jee was the one to summon the flame, it is even now rising and falling with Prince Zuko’s own ragged, shallow breathing. 

“Prince Zuko?” Lieutenant Jee asks cautiously. Prince Zuko’s eyes snap to Lieutenant Jee’s face, and the banished prince finally seems to regain some semblance of himself. He sucks a slow, deep breath in, and the flame curled in Lieutenant Jee’s palm obediently extinguishes itself. Lieutenant Jee is unable to prevent the affronted clattering of his armor as he shifts his weight uncomfortably; it is considered a grave insult to extinguish another firebender’s flame. Especially seeing as, Lieutenant Jee thinks with some chagrin, he was only trying to ascertain the prince’s well being. 

“Prince Zuko,” he asks again, “Are you well?” 

“G— _go_ ,” Prince Zuko chokes out harshly. 

He has tried his best, Lieutenant Jee reassures himself as he leaves the room. Still, the encounter leaves him feeling wrong-footed. It is disturbing to see a member of the proud royal family panicked and… it would be treasonous to say, and it feels treasonous to even think within the privacy of his own mind, but it almost seemed like Prince Zuko was _afraid of Lieutenant Jee's fire_.

Lieutenant Jee knows he should not question the actions of those in authority above him. Questioning his superiors when they planned to send the ragged, Captain-less remains of his battalion back into battle (before the blood on their armor had even dried, despite it all Lieutenant Jee is _still bitter about that_ —) is what got him stationed on the _Wani_ , and Lieutenant Jee suspects that it was only his status as a newly declared war hero that prevented it from being the coal mines— or worse.

Lieutenant Jee knows that he should not wonder what could have possibly motivated the Fire Lord to banish his thirteen-year-old son to chase spirit tales. Lieutenant Jee knows that he should not think about the fact that, to aide him on his impossible task, the young prince has been given a limping rust bucket that any sane ship’s captain would have decommissioned long ago, with a crew made up of dregs that have avoided being dishonorably discharged by sheer luck and, occasionally, a healthy helping of nepotism. Most especially, Lieutenant Jee knows that he should not linger on the fact that Prince Zuko has a huge, evidently extremely painful, burn marring the left side of his face— a burn that seems to have left him scared of fire, a burn that the medic whispers is shaped like a handprint.

(It does not help Lieutenant Jee’s attempts at avoiding sympathizing with the young prince that when he visits his sickbed the next day, Prince Zuko insists on rising from his bed to execute a formal bow as he apologizes profusely for his unforgivable rudeness in extinguishing Lieutenant Jee’s flame. Despite Prince Zuko’s claim that his actions were utterly unforgivable, Lieutenant Jee absolves him immediately and fully, and equally immediately hustles the wobbling, exhausted prince back into his bed as General Iroh scolds Prince Zuko for tiring himself and tucks the blankets tightly around him once more.)

The rest of the crew seems to be having the same issue as Lieutenant Jee. On the days when General Iroh forgoes meals with the crew in favor of eating by his nephew’s bedside, the crew whispers and speculates. None of them are courtiers, so even they know that their speculations are far from the truth, but they can’t help but wonder. A training accident, some whisper hopefully. Some sort of act of cowardice, of lacking self-control, that ended with him burned by his own flame, perhaps? 

It is easier for the crew to think that the prince must have done something to deserve this. The alternative is too painful to contemplate, like staring right into the sun. Instead, they skirt around the half-formed truth that they can never quite dispel, grasp hopefully about for other explanations, placidly refuse to connect the dots with a skill born of years molding their minds to bow to the Fire Nation’s propaganda. 

The prince finally recovers from his bout of infection, and they begin to see him for themselves. Sometimes, the prince’s actions fit the new narrative they are constructing for themselves; he is a demanding, exacting commander, he seems to stomp everywhere that he goes, and even when he isn’t shouting, his voice has a rasp, an edge of hoarseness, to it that makes him continually sound on the border of returning to shouting once more.

Most of his actions, however, don’t fit with their narrative at all. Although his tone is curt, he always thanks them. Although he glares at anyone who dares so much as glance in his direction, he also knows all of their names. Worst of all, they can’t help but fill in other explanations for his other, less pleasant actions; his ability to return home relies on this mission, _of course_ he will be a demanding commander. The rasp in his voice could be interpreted as damage from smoke inhalation. He could be glaring at them every time they glance in his direction because of the way they stare at his bandaged wound.

There is an explanation, too, for the stomping. 

The first days after Prince Zuko was up and about again, he walked in his usual silent fashion. Unfortunately, his skill has grown so great that his crew members did not hear him coming as he approached, and thus did not lower their voices or change the topic as they continued to discuss what kind of training accident could have produced such a wound as the one that warps his face.

It was Hawker Genji who noticed that Prince Zuko was standing just a few feet away. He elbowed Helmsman Kyo, _hard_ , to make him shut up. “M—my apologies, Prince Zuko,” Helmsman Kyo stuttered, certain that the prince was about to unleash wrath enough to make his frustrated shouting from before seem like a shadow before a flame. But the prince only bowed shallowly in a wordless acceptance of Helmsman Kyo’s apology, and walked on, purposefully setting his feet down in such a way that it was impossible _not_ to hear him coming. 

Zuko, for his part, _knows_ that he’s being rude, that his short temper and continual frustration with the way none of them seem to believe he has even a _chance_ of capturing the Avatar is dishonorable. But the crew keeps on _staring_ , and the only way to get them to stop is to shout, and to glare, until they leave him alone. Zuko reasons that none of the scrolls he read explicitly said _not_ to shout or glare (because it was so blatantly obvious it did not need to be stated, some part of him notes with sour honesty), only to say please and thank you and bow when appropriate. Zuko also reasons that he has already thoroughly lost his honor; what does it matter if he dishonors himself further? You cannot lose something which you do not have.

(Zuko does not buy his own excuses. Every time he shouts or glares, his stomach twists in shame. But at the same time, he can’t stop. He cannot bear their stares, cannot allow his anger to melt away and reveal the gaping pain that lies beneath it. Some small part of him, as well, prefers that he be thought dishonorable for rudeness than thought dishonorable for the wound his father inflicted; one, at least, he has control over. One, at least, he can actually change.) 

It doesn’t help that even though Zuko is no longer bedbound, his training is going horrendously. He quickly regains enough strength to practice with his dao, and he finds that Satomi, the assistant to the medic, is easy enough to goad into sparring with him. Similarly, Zuko is also able to practice his agility exercises without too much difficulty—although Zuko notices that the crew seems oddly disturbed whenever they find him inching along the underside of one of the support beams on the ceiling or climbing up to the observation deck without using the ladder. It is Zuko’s firebending that he has issues with. 

Zuko can’t even stand to be around flames. He flinches when he sees someone else’s flames, and any attempt to intentionally draw forth flames for a kata or strike leaves him paralyzed with instinctive fear. Uncle Iroh suggests beginning with meditating with a candle, and although the suggestion makes Zuko feel like an incompetent child struggling to catch up to Azula once more, he agrees to try it. 

Zuko focuses on smothering his anxiety and breathing in deeply as he reaches out his senses for the flame, but as soon as he feels the flame’s heat, instinctive panic rushes through him. His breath stutters in his chest, his mind spits out an instinctive refusal, and the lick of fire is extinguished as fully as if someone had pinched it out. 

Uncle Iroh tells him that extinguishing fires is a useful skill to have, and an advanced firebending skill— that smothering a flame is a far more difficult feat than feeding one. Zuko ignores him, shame twisting his stomach whenever he thinks about the pathetic contradiction he makes— a firebender who fears flames, who cannot summon flame but only put it out.

Some days Zuko forces himself to endure the flames’ presence in taut stillness, keeping himself from giving in to his instincts and eliminating the threat through only sheer iron will. Other days, Zuko practices sucking the heat and power from fires of greater and greater sizes. No matter what Uncle says, extinguishing flames has little practical use, but knowing that he can subdue the licking, hungry heat if need be seems to dull the sharp edge of Zuko’s fear slightly. 

They have just reached the Western Air Temple when the medic, Ichika, declares that he is ready for his bandage to be removed. After weeks of being unable to see or hear from his left side, Zuko is eager to regain his senses; and similarly, he thinks that perhaps the crew will respect him more if he loses this very visible sign of his weakness and dishonor.

It does not even occur to Zuko that he may scar. Firebenders do not burn easily, and the concept of scarring from burns is utterly alien to Zuko. Even when his father burned him as punishment in the past, the burnt skin would simply blister and slough away, leaving new skin beneath. 

The moment Medic Ichika lifts the bandages away, Zuko understands that his face will never be what it once was. He knows because no matter how much he squints or tries to focus his eyes, no matter how many times he blinks, it’s like he is trying to look through a thick cloth. He can perceive that there is some light around him— it isn’t _complete_ darkness in the left side of his vision— but he can’t make out proper shapes. He thinks he’ll probably be able to tell the difference between night and day, but that’s it. 

“The scarring may lighten with time,” Medic Ichika speaks hesitantly, a slight wobble in his voice. 

_Scarring?_ Zuko thinks blankly and turns his ~~eyes~~ eye towards the mirror. Only now does he see what Medic Ichika and Uncle Iroh have been staring at in silent horror this entire time. With cautious fingers, Zuko traces the topography of his new face. The worst of the damage is centered around his now useless left eye, but it extends almost to his nose on one side, and just past the edges of his hairline on the other. There are slight pits where blisters have popped; even the places without pits are as rough and scaled as dragon’s skin. His left ear is twisted, almost deformed, and the skin near his eye is pulled tight so that his expression is contorted into an eternal glare, like a grinning, weeping theatre mask. A mockery of his own pain, staring back at him. 

Grief rushes through Zuko, and he lets his hand fall from his face. He will carry this scar, this branding, this mark of his dishonor, for the rest of his life. It is impossible for Zuko to escape; he can no more regain the smooth skin of his past than he can make his ruined eye see again. 

Zuko lets out a long, slow breath, one that smells of smoke and crackles with a few spare sparks. _Never give up without a fight,_ he reminds himself. He straps his dual dao to his back and nods to his uncle. “Let’s go. If we leave now, we’ll be able to get a good start on searching the Western Air Temple before sundown.” 

As Zuko predicted, climbing up to the Western Air Temple isn’t too difficult. The cliff face is craggy and full of handholds, unlike the slick metal of the ship that Zuko is used to scaling. Still, Zuko ties a rope up at the top to help the others as they make their own ascents. 

Zuko has to admit that the Western Air Temple is beautiful. The architecture is swooping yet self-contained, each upside-down pagoda punctuated by a gilded point. Inset balconies dot the soft stone of the cliff face, containing shallow gardens of crops now long gone wild. Vines trail from the tiers above, almost like the dangling tresses of a lounging noblewoman. The sweet smell of jasmine blossoms fills the air, and moss forms a green carpet between the creamy stone of the floor. Against his will, Zuko is reminded of the turtleduck pond in the palace gardens back home, and pain twists his heart. He shakes his head. He will capture the Avatar, and then he will be able to go home once more. 

The inside of the Western Air Temple is far less beautiful than the outside. The first thing Zuko notices about the inside is the bones. Endless bones, collected together like this is the nest where a raccoon-owl has chosen to hoard its pellets. Zuko falls to his knees and heaves, although only acidic bile comes past his lips. He closes his eyes, focusing on controlling his breath.

_“You must always respect your enemies,” Qin Lee tells him as Zuko pulls him back to his feet. “If you don’t, you will underestimate them and lose to them due to your own arrogance.” He grins sheepishly. “Just as I have lost to you for underestimating how much Master Piandao taught you.”_

Zuko rises and exits the air temple. Lieutenant Jee has just finished climbing the rope and is now hauling Crewman Teruko up after him. “Don’t go inside the temple yet,” Zuko orders. “There are skeletons inside that need to be disposed of.” Lieutenant Jee nods. 

Zuko has no idea what the proper funeral practices for air nomads are, but he is, after all, in an air temple. Zuko heads back into the pagoda, trying not to look too closely at the endless skeletons as he navigates the unfamiliar area. Luckily the layout is relatively intuitive, and Zuko is able to find a library without too much effort. Endless afternoons spent in the palace library helping Anala with the organization means Zuko is able to tell at a glance that the works are arranged by general subject matter, which makes things even easier.

A bit more investigation and Zuko finds a corner that appears to cover philosophy. Zuko picks out a few promising looking scrolls, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, a scroll titled _Mandates Necessary for an Honorable Life_. He tucks the scroll on honor into one pocket and begins skimming through the others, until at last, he manages to find a short note on air nomad funerary practices— apparently, they leave the bodies of their dead on the highest peaks of mountains, and allow the flesh to be eaten by carrion birds.

Zuko huffs out a dark laugh. All of that work looking for an answer, and the explanation he discovers is utterly irrelevant, seeing as the flesh of these dead has long decomposed. The only other funerary practice Zuko is aware of is the Fire Nation’s tradition of cremating the dead, and the thought of burning these skeletons strikes Zuko as the most fundamentally disrespectful thing he could possibly do, worse even then simply leaving their bones to bleach in the sun and gather further cobwebs in their dark corners.

Zuko’s brow furrows as he considers. He knows that some mourners scatter the ashes of their dead on the wind. Perhaps he could do something similar without burning the dead? With the emphasis the air nomads placed on returning to nature, Zuko thinks that the idea of allowing the wind to dictate where their remains end up would appeal to them. 

Zuko exits the pagoda. The _Wani_ ’s crew is assembled outside, seemingly waiting for him. Uncle, in a painfully characteristic gesture, has brought a folding Pai Sho board and is playing a game with the long-suffering Lieutenant Jee. Zuko is somewhat smug to note that, if he is correct, Lieutenant Jee is three moves from losing.

“We will be grinding the skeletons and scattering their dust on the breeze,” Zuko announces. “Do not, under any circumstances, burn the skeletons instead of crushing them.” Zuko glares to stop any objections in their tracks. He knows that crushing the skeletons will be far more difficult than burning them would be, but he simply refuses to dishonor the air nomads any further by burning the very same remains of a people that were killed by flames. To Zuko's surprise and relief, the crew simply nods solemnly in response and rises to begin the work without complaint. As Uncle Iroh passes, he gives Zuko’s shoulder a squeeze in a way that Zuko almost thinks is proud. 

The work is difficult and exhausting. By that night, Zuko’s hands have cramped to the point that he can’t straighten them out, and his back aches with a deep soreness from hours spent lugging piles of bones out of the pagodas. Despite his exhaustion, sleep eludes him, and Zuko finds himself unrolling the air nomad scroll on honor despite his better judgment.

Zuko's fingers tremble as he read the author's impassioned defense of pacifism. His tutors had always told him that the air nomads had an army, but based on this description of their values, he can't imagine the air nomads keeping so much as a simple militia, let alone an army strong enough to threaten the might of the Fire Nation. Nor were the skeletons Zuko found arranged like the remains of soldiers. They were not scattered across a battlefield, but grouped in the far corners of rooms, as though they had been huddling in fear when they had been killed— certainly not dying standing and fighting like any soldier would have done.

Zuko bites the inside of his lip, hard. It's not his place to question the decisions of Fire Lord Sozin, he tells himself firmly. A wave of shame roils through him as Zuko recalls that it was disrespecting the Fire Lord that cost him (what remained of) his honor.

The next part of the scroll has lighter subject matter; a simple argument for veganism. Zuko reads through it with some interest. As the Fire Nation is situated on an archipelago, meat is considered a high-status luxury, and it's odd to know that the air nomads intentionally choose to avoid eating it. Zuko supposes that it fits with their strange ideas when it comes to war and conflict; if they can't stand to kill an enemy soldier, it isn't so very strange that they can't stand to kill a pig-chicken, either.

Zuko finds a later part of the scroll, which explores the air nomad ideals for child-rearing, especially interesting. It seems that the air nomads have a very free, loose approach to parenting. The author speaks often about encouraging creativity and fostering compassion; the words he uses almost sounds like he is advising how best to coax a plant to grow towards the sun, whereas in the Fire Nation, parenting is much more like molding clay, or perhaps training a komodo rhino. 

_Caretakers must always remember that despite the surprising insight and maturity children can often demonstrate, they are still fundamentally vulnerable. As such, they must always be mindful that they do not hurt their children; to harm a child is a great sin._

Zuko stares at the scroll in vague incomprehension. 

It’s different, Zuko tells himself at last. Unlike the air nomads, the children of the Fire Nation are not weak and vulnerable. They are not soft plants, easily bruised at a harsh touch; they are fierce and strong, as implacable as clay. The only way to raise the children of a people as fierce and stubborn as the Fire Nation is with a touch equally as fierce, expectations equally as stubborn.

Still, Zuko can’t quite stop thinking about it, even when he tucks the scroll away and rolls over onto his right side to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of Zuko disposing of the skeletons of the air nomads on his first visit to the Western Air Temple (and generally having to grapple with the air nomad genocide) comes from the fic _To Take Care_ by Haicrescendo, which I highly recommend. 
> 
> The crew of the _Wani_ is basically lifted wholesale from the Muffinverse. If you haven't read Muffinlance's work, you should go check it out ASAP bc it's truly *chef's kiss*


	4. Seahawk Harbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finishes the search of the Western Air Temple, and begins to worry about time getting away from him.
> 
> cw: vague reference to harassment and possible sexual assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody:  
> me: *realizes four chapters in that the names of ships are supposed to be italicized*

The remains of the air nomads have been disposed of with as much dignity as Zuko (as clumsy in matters of honor as always) can muster and thus, the full force of the crew's efforts turns to methodically combing the Western Air Temple for signs of the Avatar.

The Western Air Temple is a truly beautiful place. In addition to the swooping architecture and trailing jasmine blossoms from earlier, each new door they open seems to unveil further marvels. Their explorations reveal a hall of statues with soft rock smooth as silk, the remains of what had once been a carefully tended upside down garden, and (to Uncle Iroh’s delight) a massive Pai Sho table with tiles the size of the serving platters the palace servants had used on feast days, among other wonders. 

The discovery that Zuko relishes the most is that of a sealed room in one of the far pagodas. Huge trumpets of beaten metal adorn the doors, and a little speculation is enough to come to the conclusion that the sealed chamber is meant to be opened through airbending. What better place, Zuko thinks with excitement that he desperately tries to dampen, for the last airbender to hide? 

Engineer Hanako says she may be able to trick the doors into opening by creating a modified bellows of sorts. Zuko, who has seen Engineer Hanako’s genius time and time again as she keeps the _Wani_ afloat using only sheer ingenuity and spite, is more than willing to order to the crew of the _Wani_ to help Engineer Hanako however she deems necessary. 

(Engineer Hanako smiles smugly at Helmsman Kyo’s expression. She _told_ Kyo that engineers outranked helmsmen!) 

Zuko wants to be working alongside his crew, helping scavenge for supplies or striking metal into the shape Engineer Hanako desires with the heat of his flames and the strength of his arms. Frankly, Zuko does not care _what_ he does, but the thought of sitting still when they could be so close to capturing the Avatar is intolerable to him. 

Unfortunately, the thought of Zuko doing anything _but_ sitting still is equally intolerable to Uncle Iroh. Uncle Iroh disapproves of the way Zuko had exerted himself climbing the cliff face, and he says that between that and the work Zuko has done disposing of the air nomad remains, Zuko must rest lest the healing of his wound slow. 

(Zuko has many thoughts about this. He thinks that to rest at a time such as this would be deeply dishonorable; Father always scolded him harshly back when he was foolish enough to ask for breaks Before, and _that_ had only been training. He also thinks that Uncle Iroh is mostly saying this because he wants someone to play Pai Sho on the temple's immense table with him, and the rest of the crew is too sensible to lose against him any more times than they already have. 

The thought angers Zuko. It makes him want to shout, “THIS IS NOT A VACATION, UNCLE!” After all, Zuko is _banished_. What time does he have for games of Pai Sho? He ought to be ensuring that the bellows is produced quickly, even if it _does_ lead to his wound regressing. His hard work, his pain and effort, is the price he must pay to regain his honor. 

But Uncle Iroh has not lost his honor. He has no reason to stay with his foolish, disgraced nephew; no reason to tuck him into bed or brew him cups of healing tea. Zuko is selfish; Uncle Iroh is the last hint of home who remains with him. If Uncle Iroh wants a vacation, if that is why he has come with Zuko, then Zuko will do his best to give that to him.

So Zuko cordially accepts Uncle Iroh’s invitation to play Pai Sho with him, already beginning breathing exercises to help him keep his composure when Uncle Iroh inevitably trounces him.)

In the end, Engineer Hanako’s invention does not work. That is to say, in one sense it works excellently; the bellows produces the strongest, most precisely aimed blasts of air that Zuko has ever seen. But even Engineer Hanako’s new invention cannot adjust the air’s direction after it has left the bellows, and it seems that the locking mechanism of the door requires the air to curve in a complicated, precise shape that would require the kind of control over the wind that only an airbender could hope for. 

“I’m sorry, Prince Zuko,” Engineer Hanako says, bowing her head. 

“Don’t be,” Zuko replies. He musters up the closest thing to a smile that he can manage, trying not to wince at how it tugs on his wound. “Engineer Hanako, you have produced the most advanced bellows that I have ever encountered. Do not be ashamed that your skill is not enough to create the impossible.” He bows with the flame. “You have my sincere thanks.” 

Engineer Hanako watches him leave. Prince Zuko speaks of impossibilities, utterly unrecognizing of the fact that he himself is one. Hanako recognizes the painful hope for the impossible that he carries because she too has carried it. It is a pang that ached within her when her mother came home from the palace with a burn in the shape of a hand on her cheek for letting the bath water go cold, that ached within her when no one did anything about Him, when Hanako defended herself from Him and her commander took her attacker’s side. It is a pang that is aching now, but it feels different; it is an ache of fullness instead of hollowness. It is a good ache. 

The other type of aching can destroy, Hanako knows. It is a hollowness that twists and consumes, a void that grows and stretches in a desire to make everything around it into that same emptiness. It is a pyre upon which all other things that might have been hoped for are sacrificed; a mind-sickened fox-kitten who devours its littermates so that it will never have to share mother’s milk. 

Hanako can already see it in Prince Zuko. Prince Zuko's desire for his father's love is a pyre upon which he is willing to sacrifice his time, his happiness, his health, every bit of him that he can possibly part with. It is a painful thing to watch, knowing that this is the very same man who banished a thirteen-year-old for— for what? Hanako doesn't even know; none of the crew knows. Whatever it is, Hanako doesn't think it could justify banishing a _thirteen-year-old child_. The Fire Lord has sent his son off to chase spirit tales, and Prince Zuko seems determined to obey or die trying. For all his impossible kindnesses, Hanako thinks Prince Zuko more than deserves to have a spirit tale or two come true. 

Unfortunately, the universe is hardly receptive to the petty thoughts and desires of its occupants, as the commoners of the Fire Nation know all too well, and Hanako will have to ensure that Prince Zuko achieves his well-deserved impossibility herself. 

Hanako thinks of the young prince’s thoughtful, solemn expression when she had proposed her impossible plan, the way every time she had hesitantly explained that the work had hit a snag, he had simply nodded in acceptance of the delay and allowed the crew of the _Wani_ to stay at the Western Air Temple a little longer. Even a few moments ago, he had given her a grateful smile even as Hanako saw his shoulders slumping with a dejection so deep it must have burned. No, Hanako does not think that, when it is on Prince Zuko’s behalf, doing the impossible is such a terrible burden. 

Zuko, for all that he tried not to let it show in Engineer Hanako’s presence (because it’s true, she shouldn’t disparage herself for not achieving the impossible) is disappointed. How can he not be, when he had tricked himself into believing he was on the cusp of regaining his honor? Zuko shakes his head, cursing himself for his foolishness. In the future, he will be more careful not to get his hopes up. 

It is now a full five months since Zuko’s banishment, and Zuko is no closer to finding the Avatar than he was when he started out. He has spent his time playing Pai Sho and reading air nomad scrolls on veganism and weak, soft-hearted parenting. He has only checked a single Air Temple, and with each delay, each moment Zuko fails to prove his effort, he knows that Father’s disappointment will only grow and grow. He was merciful to allow Zuko a chance to come home, and Zuko must not squander it any further than he already has. 

Zuko unrolls his world map to double-check if there is, against all odds, a shorter route to the Northern Air Temple. As he scans the area, his eyes can’t help but catch onto the serrated outline of an island, just below the circular stain where Uncle had set a teacup down on the map. Zuko knows that the ruins of the ancient Sun Warrior civilization lie there. Qin Lee had told him, once, that the Way of the Warrior was rumored to have originally been passed down from them, along with firebending. 

Zuko shakes his head. The island is west of the Western Air Temple; they would actually have to loop back around and go _backwards_ to stop by it. The idea is patently absurd, and Zuko is shamefully selfish to have considered it for even an instant. 

Instead, Zuko traces his finger through the waters around the Western Air Temple. Lieutenant Jee and Uncle have both agreed that the _Wani_ will need to stop at Seahawk Harbor to resupply, as neutral ports are few enough between that they cannot afford to squander the opportunity. That means they will have to stick close to land, which leaves little room for clever, time-saving maneuvers. Zuko bites his tongue, frustrated. He supposes the only thing he can do to try to speed their journey is to make sure that when they reach Seahawk Harbor, Uncle doesn’t waste _too_ much time buying new trinkets to fill his room with. 

Letting out a frustrated groan, Zuko grabs his dual dao. Sparring with Satomi always helps him feel a bit better— like he’s doing _something_ productive. 

Zuko ends up spending much of the journey to Seahawk Harbor sparring, in fact. At first, he just spars with Satomi. One day when they’re sparring in the hold as usual, Satomi overbalances in an attempt to avoid a strike from Zuko’s left dao. Offbalanced, Zuko lunges and accidentally runs a barrel through, leaving the floor sticky and purple-red with foolishly wasted wine. After that, he and Satomi move to the deck for their sparring.

It’s only when Lieutenant Jee frantically moves to separate them that Zuko realizes the crew has no idea Satomi and Zuko have become sparring partners. Satomi is quiet and often grumpy; attempts at conversation will generally be met with threats to fight (which, incidentally, is also why Zuko likes her so much). Once Zuko has made it explicitly clear that they are not _fighting_ , they are _sparring_ , the crew seems to relax— even if they still seem a bit confused, as though Zuko is going to turn around and throw Satomi in the brig for fighting after all. 

When Satomi beats him and Zuko only laughs and congratulates her, Engineer Hanako asks to spar him, as well. (In hindsight, Zuko is a bit confused by that one. Engineer Hanako is fierce, it’s true, but she's not much a fighter. She uses her firebending to keep the _Wani_ in one piece more than as a weapon, and the only other armament she carries is a small, short knife which she occasionally threatens to shank people with. According to Satomi, she _did_ shank someone with it once, and that’s why she’s now stationed on the _Wani_.) After Engineer Hanako, it seems like everyone on the ship wants to spar with him, from Hawker Genji to Lieutenant Jee himself. 

Zuko doesn’t mind. It’s ~~fun~~ good training because everyone on the crew uses different weapons and different styles. Zuko feels like he’s learning more than he has since those blissful two years with Master Piandao, and after two months at the Western Air Temple doing little more than losing at Pai Sho, it’s a good feeling. 

Things are even looking up a bit when it comes to firebending. During one sparring match with Lieutenant Jee, Zuko realized that he could sense when there were flames on his left side, even with the damage his eye and ear have taken. He’s tried to expand it to be able to sense people’s body heat, as well, but he doesn’t have the skill; and, of course, he has no way to sense arrows or other flying projectiles with firebending. But just the thought that he won’t be surprised by fire on his left side makes him less scared. 

It’s because of this that Zuko no longer freezes in fear when it comes time to produce flames— although he still can’t bring himself to release than a tiny spurt of fire, barely hot enough to give someone a sunburn (certainly not hot enough to blind a crown prince). Uncle Iroh says that in time, as he regains his confidence, he will naturally find himself creating larger and larger flames until he can not only reach, but surpass, his previous skill. 

Zuko doubts it. Even if he no longer freezes completely, he still fears flame in a way that is deeply shameful for a firebender. Producing flame comes even less naturally to him than it did before his banishment; often it feels like drawing water from a dry and cracked well. The only thing that is coming naturally to Zuko about firebending is extinguishing flames; now, he can subdue even Uncle’s biggest and hottest flames in only a few seconds. 

Still, Zuko is glad for his progress, however small that it is. He will never admit it, but he had secretly feared he would not be able to produce flame again at all, that his firebending would be lost along with his home, his family, his honor. After losing so much, it is more of a surprise when things remain than it is to lose a little bit more. 

Zuko thinks of Uncle Iroh, the only remaining member of his family who will still speak to him. (Zuko has been sending Father progress reports, but Father doesn’t reply. That’s okay. Zuko knows that he’s waiting until Zuko actually succeeds in his task.) An ache rises in Zuko, and a vibrant taste fills his mouth, although he can’t tell if it’s sour or sweet. Maybe he should let Uncle Iroh spend as much time as he likes shopping, after all. 

Uncle Iroh has visited Seahawk Harbor in the past, and he seems to have a special place in his heart for it. Seahawk Harbor is situated in a small cove, which is shielded on both sides by craggy mountains. These same mountains extend out into the ocean, creating a semicircle of protection which allows only a single ship to pass through at a time. It’s this, Uncle Iroh explains, which has allowed Seahawk Harbor to keep its neutrality. Any navy that attempted to pass into Seahawk Harbor will be picked off long before they could reach the harbor itself, and the surrounding mountains make a land invasion similarly arduous. It also helps that the port facilitates the flow of wealth between the Northern Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, and the Fire Nation. As much as the Fire Nation hates the Northern Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom (and vice versa), the money they make from Seahawk Harbor is worth more than the effort it would take to conqueror the port. 

As they move their ship through the gap in the mountains (it’s pathetically easy; the _Wani_ is tiny) Uncle Iroh describes the wonders of the markets at Seahawk Harbor; thick glossy furs from the Northern Water Tribe, the vibrant spices that the Fire Nation is known for, endless rolls of Earth Kingdom silk so smooth that it slips through the hand like water. He puts special emphasis on the rare blending of cultures that occurs in Seahawk Harbor; the residents of Seahawk Harbor wear clothes dyed not in just in one color, but in red and green and blue, or even purple, if rich enough to afford it. The food is flavored with some of the same herbs that are used in the Fire Nation, but fish is prepared in a style much more reminiscent of that of the Northern Water Tribe, and chocolate is eaten frequently despite generally being restricted to the Earth Kingdom's pallet. 

It sounds strange to Zuko, and he says so, but he can’t be a little bit interested despite himself. He remembers Uncle Iroh sent some chocolate home during the Siege of Ba Sing Se, along with a few yards of the Earth Kingdom’s famed silk. The chocolate had been bitter, and yet there had been an odd sort of richness to it which Zuko had enjoyed despite himself. Perhaps, if they have the money, Zuko will try a bit once more. And, too, Zuko has to wonder what purple clothing would look like. 

When they disembark, however, the port is very little like Uncle Iroh had described. Instead of selling exotic candy and thick furs, the stalls are almost all empty, except for a pathetic collection of odds and ends that could be attained at any port city worth the wood it was built on. Instead of bustling with shoppers in silks of blue, red, green, and purple, the streets are nearly abandoned. Uncle Iroh approaches the owner of one of the few stalls for an explanation, Zuko trailing behind and trying not to think about what this means for the _Wani_. 

“I have many fond memories of my visits to Seahawk Harbor in years past,” Uncle Iroh says. “What has happened?” 

“Pirates,” the vendor spits, the word bitter and acidic as a mouth-pinching shaddock-lemon. 

“Well, that is truly unfortunate,” Uncle Iroh replies regretfully. “Do you know if there is anywhere nearby where we could pick up supplies for our ship?” 

Zuko cuts the vendor off before he can begin to reply. “Take us to whoever is in charge, please." 

For the first time, the vendor actually looks at Zuko. His eyes linger, wide and shocked, on the red expanse of Zuko’s scar. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, then says, “P—Prince Zuko,” as he dips into a bow in the style of the Fire Nation. “Come with me.”

The vendor leads them through the empty streets to a larger house in the town’s center. “Please wait outside,” he says, executing another bow, and then hurries in. 

A minute later, the vendor returns, this time with a man in robes of purple silk a few paces behind him. The man bows in greeting. 

“Prince Zuko and General Iroh,” he says, “I am Hyun-Ki, the Master of Seahawk Harbor. I must sincerely apologize that we are unable to supply your Highnesses with the supplies you desire.” 

Zuko and Uncle Iroh bow shallowly in return. Zuko is already sick of the formalities, so when he sees Uncle Iroh opening his mouth to undoubtedly say something polite but meaningless and time-consuming, he cuts him off by asking, “What can you tell us about the pirates?” 

Master Hyun-Ki blinks, looking oddly surprised. After a split second, his face is smoothed back into neutrality. “Not much, I am afraid. If Your Highnesses would join me inside, I will explain what I know over some tea.” 

“That would be lovely,” Uncle Iroh says. “I have always loved the tea in Seahawk Harbor.” Zuko tunes out Uncle Iroh’s monologue on how Seahawk Harbor tea perfectly combines the best aspects of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation teamaking tradition in favor of thanking the vendor in a low voice. The vendor nods, eyes almost as wide as they had been when he realized Zuko’s identity, and then he heads back to his stall with another bow. 

Zuko has to admit that Seahawk Harbor style tea _is_ pretty good, but he forgoes drinking much of it in favor of listening intently to Master Hyun-Ki’s description of the pirates.

“They seem to appear out of nowhere,” Master Hyun-Ki admits. “They create a cover of fog using waterbending to conceal their approach, and do the same when they leave.” 

“How do they defeat the merchant ships?” Zuko asks. “I thought the narrowness of the gap was supposed to prevent these kinds of issues.” 

Master Hyun-Ki sighs. “The pirates use small, agile boats that can maneuver through the gap even with a merchant ship in it as well. And, because the merchant ships are so big, they can’t turn or move to avoid the pirates.” 

Uncle Iroh grimaces in sympathy. “Far too often, the sabertooth mouselion’s teeth scratch its own hide.” Master Hyun-Ki nods in sage agreement.

With the ease of long practice, Zuko ignores his uncle’s proverbs and says, “Such small ships would be impractical for transporting supplies, even if they do have the aide of a waterbender. They must have a hideout nearby.” 

Master Hyun-Ki sighs. “We have searched the surrounding area, but have been unable to find any such hideout.” 

Zuko smiles slowly. “They have a waterbender, don’t they? Have you checked _under_ the water?” 

Master Hyun-Ki glances at him, momentarily struck silent. “...No. But it would be impossible to search the entire cove- we don’t have any waterbenders here.” 

“We don’t have to search the entire cove,” Zuko points out. “We simply have to follow the boats. Fog may obscure the view of the cove from above water, but not from below. All that we need to do is have someone in the water to follow them.” 

Slowly, Master Hyun-Ki smiles. “A merchant ship will be sailing in just a few days.” 

Zuko nods curtly in response. “I will be waiting in the water.” He stands and bows. “Thank you.” 

After a few days of waiting, which Zuko mostly spends pacing about the _Wani_ like a caged cat-fox, and his crew whiles away at the bar, the merchant ship sets sail. Floating in the shadowed water just beneath a particularly deep ridge, Zuko marvels at how large the merchant ship is compared to the _Wani_. He supposes that it has to be, to carry so much cargo. 

The merchant ship also moves differently, swaying with the wind and waves in a way that the coal-powered _Wani_ does not. Zuko finds it oddly charming and has to wonder what it would feel like to ride on such a ship. 

Zuko is quickly pulled from his thoughts as the slim boats used by the pirates slip out of the water like dolphin-sharks surfacing for air. He sinks further into the shadows, but luckily all of the pirates are too distracted at the prospect of loot to scan the cove for enemies. 

As the pirates finish loading their boats with stolen wealth, Zuko sucks in a deep breath and slides beneath the water. Zuko forces his good eye open, and can’t help but smirk when he sees that bubbles of air have been created around the vulnerable supplies on the boats, and the pirates are moving the boats through the water to a craggy bit of cliff that must conceal their hideout. 

Zuko follows at a distance. Once the last pirate has coaxed his boat through, Zuko follows after. He finds himself in a sort of dark, watery tunnel, which is disorienting enough that only his unerring sense of where Agni is keeps him from losing track of up and down. Zuko bursts through the surface, gasping for breath. Almost immediately, he feels the water begin to cool and stiffen as the pirates’ waterbender tries to trap him. 

Zuko forces himself out of the water with an explosive burst of energy, rolling on the sand beneath his feet before settling into a solid fighting stance with his dual dao drawn. He blinks salty water out of his eyes, quickly taking in his surroundings. He’s in a cave, with a pool of water containing several boats full of plunder behind him. Before him are nine pirates, seven of them armed. 

“C’mon, he’s just a kid,” one of the pirates says, seemingly trying to reassure himself of the ease with which he can dispatch Zuko. The other pirates mutter in agreement. 

“We’ll let him go,” a female pirate who Zuko thinks is the waterbender decides. “But he has to _swear_ not to tell the Master about our hideout.” 

_The fifth tenet is honesty._ “No, thank you,” Zuko says, and charges the waterbender.

Zuko’s never fought more than one person at once, but the cramped cave means that they can’t all get to him at once, so it's not so bad. With the help of a few dirty tricks he learned from Satomi, Zuko manages to beat them all eventually. 

“Put the bubbles back around the boats,” Zuko orders the waterbender, the blade of his right dao held against her throat. He knows he’s not supposed to kill people who haven’t tried to kill him but is _threatening_ to kill someone who hasn’t tried to kill him okay? He’ll do research on it later, Zuko decides. 

A minute later, Zuko surfaces in the cove, along with seven boats loaded up with supplies. Master Hyun-Ki throws him a ladder, and once Zuko is up on the boat, he hands him a towel to wrap up in as well. Zuko explains the cave, as well as giving descriptions of all of the pirates. He wonders if he should have tried to take them prisoner so they would have to go to jail, but he hadn’t had any way of restraining them. He hopes Master Hyun-Ki isn’t too angry about that. Father would have been angry, Zuko knows. 

When Master Hyun-Ki’s hand comes down on his left shoulder, Zuko flinches, hard. Master Hyun-Ki either doesn’t notice or is too polite to say anything. He gives Zuko’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then releases Zuko and bows deeply. “We owe you a debt,” he tells Zuko. 

Zuko can’t help but blush. He was only acting out of a selfish need for supplies for the _Wani_ , after all. 

But Master Hyun-Ki cuts off his protests with a wave of his hand. “Prince Zuko, your actions were honorable, whether or not they may have been motivated in part by a desire to allow your crew to resupply.” 

He seems ready to continue arguing with Zuko, but Zuko has abruptly run out of steam. His mind is still stuck on the words _your actions were honorable._

“Perhaps we ought to get you inside where it’s warm,” Master Hyun-Ki says, a strange, Uncle-Iroh-esque expression on his face as he regards Zuko. 

Zuko nods dumbly. He’s still thinking _your actions were honorable_. Against his will, his lips turn upwards at the corners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seahawk Harbor is an original creation, as is Master Hyun-Ki. I used [this incredible map](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheLastAirbender/comments/6ry69q/atla_highly_detailed_map_of_the_world_of_avatar/) to figure out where to put it and generally keep track of where everything should be. If you're ever confused about the geography in this fic, this map is what I'm using as a reference, so hopefully if you look at it too, it'll help keep everything straight. 
> 
> Next chapter: the crew of the _Wani_ get drunk and hear some stories about our favorite banished prince.


	5. the Dragon Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranded crew member of a Fire Nation merchant ship finds that the only currency he has left is spirit tales. Some must buy his tales, but there are those to whom he will give them for free.

Even after three weeks spent at Chin-Sun’s inn, the steadiness of the ground beneath his feet still disorients Huojin in the mornings. Years at sea have left him used to gauging his safety by the sway and swell of the waves beneath him, and now the odd stillness leaves him wary and on edge. Although it had been the uncontained rocking of the ship that had woken him that morning three weeks ago and not the stillness, the change in routine still reminds him of the storm which destroyed his ship and left him stranded in this withered port city. 

Huojin sighs, shaking his head free of melancholy thoughts, and moves to dress. When his money ran out, he agreed to help Chin-Sun keep the inn in order in return for being allowed to stay on without paying for his room and board. Although Chin-Sun is kind, she is also just as demanding as Captain Ryoka ever was, and even more unyielding— as stubborn as the Earth which her ancestors bent. She expects Huojin to work for his food, and that means that he’s got to get moving now if he wants breakfast. 

Huojin has just finished gathering firewood and is moving to coax the faded embers of his inner flame into producing enough sparks to start the cooking fire when Min appears at the top of the stairs, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as any fox-squirrel— and just as persistent.

“What tale will you tell me today?” Min asks eagerly. 

That’s the other part of the bargain and the real reason that Chin-Sun has taken Huojin on when she can barely feed two mouths as it is, and there are no guests to appreciate how Huojin has made the inn gleam. Min is determined to become a bard, and with trade in Seahawk Harbor having dried up like boiling water over an open flame, Huojin is the only source of fresh tales for Min to put to music. 

Huojin agreed to tell a story a day, on top of working diligently and keeping an eye on Min when Chin-Sun would otherwise be forced to leave her young son alone. Min is an excellent player of the pipa, but he has no understanding of even the basic concepts of storytelling— or of the Fire Nation’s culture. Huojin has already watched Min completely misunderstand the message of _Love Amongst the Dragons_ , mischaracterize the Lady of the Fire Lilies as an anthropomorphic flower, and repeatedly compose songs featuring the Sun Spirit, “Angy”. 

Huojin hums thoughtfully. “I will need some time to decide,” he tells Min. In truth, his well of tales is running dry. He had hoped that in his sleep, a childhood tale would come back to him, or he would have a dream that he could embellish into some sort of authentic-sounding tale, but he is just as empty-handed and empty-minded as the night before. 

Min nods amiably. “Well, I’m off to go practice a few songs, but I’ll be back for lunch, and you can tell me a tale then!” 

Huojin nods, his heart sinking as he wonders what he’ll do if he can’t think of a tale in time. The work about the inn is tiring, and although his mind is theoretically free to spin a clever tale, he finds himself too engrossed in the rubbing of his joint bones as he scrubs the tiles and the sting of vinegar on his raw palms to think much of spirits or princesses. Before he knows it, Min has returned to collect his tale, and Huojin has nothing to give him. 

Luckily, Min seems distracted. “Someone’s arrived at port!” He tells Huojin and Chun-Sin around his mouthful of rice. “It’s a fire nation boat, although kind of a small one!” Min leans in with the air of someone telling a great secret. “The cabbage vendor on South Street—you know, Jie Yun— said that the ship’s commanders came to ask him about supplies, and it was General Iroh and the prince of the Fire Nation!” 

Huojin looks up sharply, heart pounding. “W—what?” 

“I know, right!” Min says. “All of these songs I’ve heard about the terrifying general who nearly broke through into Ba Sing Se, and he shows up right here— although I have to say, he doesn’t look as scary as I thought that he would. I heard that he breathed fire instead of air, but Jie Yun told me that he looked to be breathing just normal air when they talked. And apparently, the prince has a huge scar on his left eye!” He covers his left cheek with one hand, wiggling his fingers insolently. 

Huojin’s heart pounds quickly in his chest. Is it possible that the rumors are true, then? He had dismissed them as no more than foolish gossip, had agreed with Captain Ryoka when she said that it was treasonous and disrespectful to speak of such things. Of course, on a merchant ship that spent most of its time in the colonies or at neutral ports, the crew hadn’t feared the punishment for treason enough to _completely_ stop talking about it, and they’d continued swapping rumors disguised as mere folk tales whenever Captain Ryoka was out of earshot. Huojin had never participated, but he had heard the tales enough times that he knew them all down to the inflections.

“Min tells me you have not yet told a story for today,” Chin-Sun notes pointedly. 

Huojin swallows. The soup today is even more watered down than it was the previous day, and he knows that if he does not deliver, Chin-Sun will kick him out onto the dusty, splintered harbor streets. He had never thought of telling Min about the rumors surrounding the prince— they’re not proper tales, just shameful gossip— but he has no choice. 

“I will tell you the tale of the Dragon Prince,” he says. “Since you seem to be wondering about him so.” 

Min squeals with delight. “Will you explain how he got the scar?” 

Huojin bristles. It is wrong, he thinks, for a stranger, Earth-blooded and unable to understand any of their ways, to ask so impertinently about the prince’s scar. It is wrong, too, to answer. But he needs food in his belly more than he needs the warm assurance of his honor in his heart, so he continues. 

Huojin speaks of a young dragon, both clever and kind, who knew that his duty was to protect his people. He speaks of the king of the dragons, whose fire was hot and whose claws were sharp, and how he wished to allow a clutch of eggs to die at the hands of his enemies just to gain a bit more territory. He tells of how the young dragon stood up to his king, and for this, was banished. 

Min frowns. “I don’t understand,” he says. “I thought this was about the Fire Nation prince?” 

Huojin resists the urge to groan. People of the Earth, he has learned, have little patience or understanding for metaphor. 

Min’s brow unfurrows, and his face clears. “Ah, I see! You’re telling me that the Fire Nation prince can turn _into_ a dragon! And I heard that he was banished for cowardice… so that means that he wouldn’t fight for more territory, and that was why he was banished.” Min cracks his knuckles as he thinks. “Oh, I understand! He didn’t fight the dragon king, even though he himself was a dragon! That’s why the Fire Lord banished him— he was too cowardly to protect his people from the danger of a dragon stealing the Fire Nation's territory! Yes, that makes perfect sense.” 

Huojin opens his mouth to correct Min’s terrible mangling of the truth but then thinks for a moment. Min has always preferred to put his own spin on the Fire Nation’s tales— Huojin knows all too well from how little Min cared when Huojin explained that no, the Lady of the Fire Lilies was _not actually a fire lily_ — and it was probably best not to put any more strain on his relationship with his hosts, considering how thin Chin-Sun’s hospitality was wearing. And besides, does he really wish to spread His Majesty’s private business among foreigners? 

“...Yes,” Huojin says. “That’s quite correct, Min. By the way, do you know if there are any of the prince’s crewmen in the port?” 

Min nods eagerly. “There are some in the tavern!” He frowns. “They got _super_ mad at me over my interpretation of _Love Among the Dragons_.” He makes his voice higher to imitate a woman’s voice. “ ‘The Blue Spirit is supposed to be the _villain_ , and Noren is supposed to end up with the Dragon Empress, _not_ the Blue Spirit!’” He scoffs. “Clearly they can’t appreciate originality.” 

“That is truly regrettable,” Huojin says absently. He rises, bowing to first Chin-Sun, then Min. “I wish to visit my countrymen for a short time. I will be back soon.” Before Chin-Sun can protest, he’s gone. 

Huojin hesitates outside of the tavern, brushing dust from his robes as he does so. After a moment, and a few deep breaths to steady his tiny inner flame, he enters. 

It’s easy to spot the crewmen; at this time of day, the tavern is almost completely empty. A rush of nostalgia floods Huojin at the sight of red clothes in the Fire Nation cut, the lilt of his country’s accent, the fire-toned eyes of his countrymen. It’s only been three weeks, but it feels like longer. 

Huojin approaches cautiously, then stops at a polite distance, announcing his presence with a subtle clearing of his throat and a shallow bow. “Pardon me, but I was wondering if you have heard tell of the Dragon Prince?” 

It’s a common turn of phrase now, one that indicates a desire to know how their banished prince fares, but the crewmen look confused. Finally, one of them asks, “Do you mean General Iroh, the Dragon of the West?” 

“I do not,” Huojin replies. “I speak of the young Dragon Prince. I have heard that his eyes are like gleaming gold, and he carries dual dao as hard as a dragon’s claws.” Hesitantly, he adds, “I have also heard that even his human form, the skin surrounding his left eye maintains the scales of his true, majestic form.” 

The crewmen are silent. Huojin bows his head and quickly says, “it is merely fiction, of course. I would not disrespect the Royal Family by gossiping about the banished prince. The tales of the Dragon Prince are simple spirit tales spread by children and old wives.” 

One of the crewmen, a lean woman with sleek dark hair, smiles slowly. Huojin can't help but shiver; it is languid in the same way a stretching jaguar-puma is languid. “Of course,” she says, moving over on the bench so that there is room for Huojin to sit beside her. “You will have to forgive us. We have been at sea for six months, and we are far behind on our spirit tales.” 

The other crewmen still look confused, but the woman, who introduces herself as Satomi, hands Huojin a cup of sake and asks, “What can you tell us about this Dragon Prince?” 

“The Dragon Prince is the hero of a new spirit tale which has spread ever since your ship set sail,” Huojin tells them. “In this tale, there is a king of the dragons, lord of flame and scale, who wishes greatly to expand his territories. His eldest son, the prince of the dragons, is different; he believes that as the dragons' royal family, their greatest treasure is not their land, but their subjects.” 

Huojin sees the crew exchanging glances. His rather transparent naming of the king of the dragons as being “lord of flame and scale” has allowed them to catch onto the true story he is telling, layered beneath the metaphor and magic. Or at least, so he hopes.

“Thus,” Huojin continues, “when the king of the dragons decided to sacrifice a nest full of the eggs of unborn dragonlings in order to gain a little bit more territory, the Dragon Prince protested. His father believed this to be an act of great disrespect. In order to settle the matter, his father challenged him to a dragon’s battle.” Huojin sips his sake to conceal his grim smile at the way the entire crew is now intent on his little spirit tale. “The Dragon Prince, being a loyal son in addition to his other virtues, did not wish to fight his father. Instead, he begged for forgiveness, explaining that he did not intend to disrespect his beloved father, only to protect his people.” 

Next to him, Satomi’s hands are trembling where they clutch, white-knuckled, onto her bowl of fire flakes. 

“However, the king of the dragons did not listen. Instead, he burnt off half of his son’s face." There is a split second of clear, ringing silence. Huojin clears his throat, forcing the lump within it aside, and speaks. "The Dragon Prince's father banished him from the realm of dragons and cursed him wander among the humans as one of them, with the only evidence of his true majesty being in the scales about his left eye.” 

The silence of the crew is thick and weighty. One of them, a muscular woman in grease-stained clothing, is fiddling with a short knife in a way that suggests she would very much like to use it on someone. Another, a distinguished-looking man with a full, neatly trimmed beard, is staring grimly into his empty cup. Finally, a man in the robes of a medic speaks up in a low voice. “It is surely mere coincidence, but Prince Zuko’s scar looks a bit like the shape of a hand.” 

They are silent for another very long moment. Next to Huojin, Satomi has such a tight grip on her bowl of fire flakes that Huojin fears the clay will crack and crumble beneath the pressure. 

“The Avatar has not been seen for a hundred years,” the man with the beard says. “It is unlikely Prince Zuko will find him.” There is an odd note in his voice; an old bitterness, combined with a new relief. Around him, the crew is nodding. It is cruel that their young captain has been banished on a fool’s mission, but all of them are glad that he is far from the one who left that scar on his face. 

“The Dragon Prince treasures his people,” Huojin murmurs. “And so too do the people treasure the Dragon Prince.” He thinks about how even Captain Ryoka could not stop the crew of the merchant ship from gossiping. Around him, the crew is nodding. 

“Prince Zuko is clever and strong,” Satomi says. “He is an excellent fighter. But even the best fighter cannot win a battle on their own.” She glances around the table, and something in her face slackens with relief as she sees that the rest of the crew is nodding in agreement. Their faces are set, and Huojin knows that they are silently vowing to protect the young prince.

Huojin raises his cup of sake. “To the prince,” he says. Around him, the crew raises their own cups. “To the prince,” they echo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huojin, holding Min up by the scruff of his neck: this is my bard, I guess 
> 
> Min, looking at Fire Nation stories: it's free real estate!


	6. the Northern Air Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko encounters the new residents of the Northern Air Temple and celebrates his fourteenth birthday.
> 
> cw: self-harm, something that is maybe an anxiety attack (it's up for interpretation)

With the pirates defeated, Seahawk Harbor begins its slow return to the bustling port of Uncle Iroh’s stories. The _Wani_ is forced to linger until enough merchant ships stop by that all of the supplies they will be needing are available but honestly, as places to wait go, Seahawk Harbor is a pleasant one. Master Hyun-Ki and the other residents are incredibly welcoming, and the crew of the _Wani_ is happy to while away a few weeks swimming in the warm, clear water of the cove and drinking sake in the harbor’s tavern. 

(Zuko doesn’t see how drinking in a tavern is any different from drinking on the ship, but the crew insists that it just _is_ Zuko, for his part, spends most of his time practicing swimming—as a resident of an island nation, he knows the basics, but he’s not as good at it as he probably should be considering that he’s going to living on a ship for the foreseeable future.) 

The time that Zuko doesn’t spend swimming is mostly spent sparring with the crew, or talking to Master Hyun-Ki. It takes Zuko a few days to gather the courage required to ask Master Hyun-Ki what he believes is required to be honorable, but in the end, Zuko is glad that he asked. Master Hyun-Ki is a fountain of information; he knows all of the appropriate etiquette that should be used when addressing Northern Water Tribe, Earth Kingdom, _and_ Fire Nation people of varying statuses. The last time Zuko was this impressed was when Azula managed to produce her first blue flame at just eight.

When the _Wani_ finally leaves, they don’t have quite as much coal as they would like, since Earth Kingdom coal shipments tend to be few and far between at this particular port. However, the coal shortage is made up for by the way that somehow their meager allowance has stretched to cover far more things than it rationally should; furs for the cold weather up north, tins of the Seahawk Harbor tea that Uncle Iroh loves so much, Fire Nation spices in specially sealed containers so that no matter how long they’re stored, they won’t lose their bite and burn. 

Zuko tries to protest, but Master Hyun-Ki simply waves him off every argument until at last Zuko is forced by propriety to accept the gifts—even though he still feels that he doesn’t deserve them. Zuko’s discontent is at least mollified slightly by the fact that he can thank Master Hyun-Ki with a proper bow in the style favored by residents of Seahawk Harbor. 

Of course, even that is thanks to Master Hyun-Ki’s teachings. Master Hyun-Ki is simply _too generous_ ; honestly, it leaves Zuko a bit on edge. He can’t help but continually suspect that he’s about to have the rug yanked out from under him.

That doesn’t mean Zuko can’t appreciate it while it lasts, though. Personally, Zuko is most grateful for the roll of purple silk that Master Hyun-Ki gifts to him specifically. It is too beautiful to even consider wearing on the salt-sprayed deck of the _Wani_ , so Zuko carefully packs it away in his quarters and only occasionally allows himself to take it out and admire the deep shade, which reminds him of the sky when the night begins to lose its dominion. 

The addition Uncle Iroh most appreciates is not the tea, as Zuko had expected, but the new crewman that the _Wani_ has somehow, inexplicably, gained. Uncle Iroh finds it to be hilarious, and although he does his best to make Huojin welcome, he also teases Zuko mercilessly about attracting stray sailors in addition to stray turtleducks.

To conserve their limited supply of coal, the _Wani_ follows the path used by merchant ships departing from Seahawk Harbor to the Northern Water Tribe. It isn’t as direct a path, but by following the ocean currents, the _Wani_ can harness the ocean’s energy instead of fighting against it. 

At first, their journey goes well. Although progress is slow, they are consuming a third of their normal rate of coal per mile. Zuko is also mollified by the fact that he is spending his time productively. In the wake of Zuko’s fight against the group of pirates, the crew has begun sparring with him in teams so that if in the future he is outnumbered again and isn’t lucky enough to be aided by narrow, cramped surroundings, he will be able to hold his own. Zuko’s flames haven’t grown in size, but now when he practices extinguishing fires, Lieutenant Jee and Uncle Iroh have to work together to create one large enough to challenge him, and Uncle Iroh has been teaching him how to do the breath of fire to help him in the cold of the North. 

Zuko has also been combing Huojin’s mind for insights about honor from the many spirit tales the man knows, and also (though Zuko will never admit it) for the plots of the theatre scrolls that had come out since Zuko’s banishment. On slow days, Zuko and Huojin are often be found amicably arguing about what was the worst mistake in the Ember Island Players’ production of _Love Among the Dragons_ (Zuko says the fight scenes are the worst part as they show a complete misunderstanding of _how swords work_ , Huojin says the costumes are worse because they somehow manage to combine five different centuries worth of traditional clothing and make a mockery of _all of them_.) 

As the _Wani_ heads further north, the journey gets tougher. Zuko has never experienced true cold before, let along cold like this; he’s used to Caldera, where the winters are slightly milder versions of the summers. Here, the cold is no sweet relief from the scorching heat of the sun; here, the cold _is_ the danger. It sinks into Zuko’s bones, steals his breath and banks his flame, leaves Zuko’s fingers clumsy and stiff when he tries to spar. If not for the furs Master Hyun-Ki so generously gave them and the breath of fire that Uncle Iroh taught him, Zuko doesn’t think he would be able to stand it at all. 

The ocean, too, is turning against them. Instead of slowly but steadily carrying them north, the currents have begun to meander, to turn aside into slow-moving eddies that the crew of the _Wani_ doesn’t notice until they’ve been heading in circles all day. Time after time, the _Wani_ dips into its coal supply and breaks out of an eddy, only to find the next morning that somehow during the night they have fallen back into one.

Azula always said that once is chance, twice is coincidence, and thrice is conspiracy. Generally, she used her little saying to justify why whatever servant who has attracted her ire most recently means all of their recent mistakes as grave insults, but that didn’t mean her saying is entirely without merit. After the fourth morning that they wake to find themselves in an eddy, Zuko decides to spend the next night hidden on deck. 

Sure enough, when Zuko observes intently through his good eye, he can catch occasional glimpses of conspiracy. The conspirators are clever enough to keep track of the night watch’s gaze, but they couldn’t account for the gaze of someone they don’t even know is there. Zuko watches as their sleek, hand-paddled boats slip through the water, gracefully weaving in between icebergs; he notes the gleam of fur around their necks, and he follows with a widened eye as the figures bend with smooth, flowing movements. 

It makes sense, Zuko figures. The Northern Water Tribe has no idea what the _Wani_ ’s intentions are; they don’t know that Zuko is just here to look for the Avatar, not attack their nation. Zuko is honestly a bit impressed and grateful that they haven’t just outright attacked; he knows in this situation, the Fire Nation would have.

The next morning Zuko tells Uncle Iroh and Lieutenant Jee that he wants to change the ship’s course. They will no longer follow the current and head due north; instead, they will adjust so they are pointing north-east to the Northern Air Temple. 

“That will burn more coal than following the currents,” Lieutenant Jee points out. 

“Having to fight our way out of an eddy every morning will burn even more,” Zuko replies. He doesn’t want to explain about the waterbenders; he isn’t sure if Uncle Iroh and Lieutenant Jee will expect him to engage them. Zuko doesn’t want to. Yes, courage is the second tenet, but the seventh tenet is self-control, and Master Piandao told him only to attack those who first attacked him. The Northern Water Tribe has gone out of their way to remove the _Wani_ from their territory without violence, and Zuko has no interest in repaying that kindness with pointless bloodshed. He hopes that by changing his course, the Northern Water Tribe will see that he intends to look for the Avatar, not to invade their territory, and conflict will be averted. 

Zuko lets out a soft sigh of relief when Lieutenant Jee and Uncle Iroh nod thoughtfully. Conflict with his colleagues, at least, is averted. The _Wani_ ’s course splits from the ocean current and turns to face north-east. As Zuko expected, they are not caught in any more eddies. 

About three months after leaving Seahawk Harbor, they reach the Northern Air Temple. At first, the only thing visible is the distinctive air nomad swoops and spirals, but as they approach, the forms of flying figures become apparent, floating around the temple like sparks rising from a fire. Remembering what happened at the Western Air Temple, Zuko tries not to get his hopes up, but he can’t help the way his inner fire flares with hope. 

Zuko doesn’t want to have to invade the Northern Air Temple. Not only would it be a difficult feat to achieve, with the Air Temple cut off from its surroundings as it is, but also, like with the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko isn’t eager to attack someone who hasn’t attacked him first. 

_~~...bones collected together like a raccoon-owl’s hoarded pellets. Singe marks on the walls in perfect correspondence to the skeletons, creating a tableau that years of tutoring have made far too clear to Zuko. Zuko can’t delude himself into thinking there were any armies here.~~_

Zuko shakes his head, feeling shame and anger roil within him. It is not his place to question Fire Lord Sozin. He is a banished prince. What does _he_ know of honor? He presses his thoughts _down_ and _away_ with the same ruthless willpower that has carried him thus far. 

Zuko climbs up to the Northern Air Temple with only Satomi and Lieutenant Jee for protection. He has to go slower to prevent them from falling behind, and he would prefer to go completely alone, but Uncle Iroh unilaterally refused when Zuko had proposed that. 

Zuko is still the first one to pull himself onto solid ground. He straightens a piece of his armor that became crooked and looks around. The air nomads seem to have noticed his approach; there are no more figures flitting between the spires, and it’s clear to Zuko that the temple has been put under some sort of lockdown.

As soon as Lieutenant Jee and Satomi finish pulling themselves onto solid ground, Zuko removes a white flag from the pack he carries on his back and lifts it high in the air so that it’s visible to all. After a long moment to give the air nomads adequate time to see and process the white flag, Zuko and his two companions begin their slow approach to the Northern Air Temple’s gates.

There is another long moment, and then the gates begin to slowly scrape open before them. Satomi and Lieutenant Jee exchange a wary glance, and Zuko can feel their hesitance. He squares his shoulders, makes certain that his posture is as upright as it can humanly be, and continues his march forward, refusing to allow so much as a hitch in his stride.

Upon entering the Northern Air Temple, they are greeted not by an air nomad, but by a man of what looks to be Earth Kingdom descent, with singed eyebrows and wild brown hair. He bows deeply, and then, seeing Zuko’s evident confusion, explains, “We are displaced Earth Kingdom civilians who have made the Northern Air Temple our home, Your Highness.”

“And the…” Zuko makes a swooping gesture with his hand to indicate the flying figures that had circled the temple’s spires.

Despite the tension in his posture, the man’s face brightens. “Ah! Those people are using an invention of mine.” He cheerfully explains how he managed to create flying contraptions based on traditional air nomad gliders.

“So there are no air nomads here? No Avatar?” Zuko confirms.

The mechanist nods.

...He could be lying, Zuko thinks. Despite his best efforts, the bright chains of hope are hard to leave behind.

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you?” Zuko asks.

“Not at all,” the mechanist replies. “I would be perfectly happy to give you a tour.”

Once inside the temple, it becomes increasingly clear that is no longer an air temple at all. The traditional air nomad murals have been obscured by the thick, greasy muck that leaks from pipes swollen with oil and water like the bloated veins of a great beast. The air nomads’ traditional hand-carved statues have been stained from smoke and pollution, the sweet scent of jasmine blossoms that had characterized the Western Air Temple is replaced with the smell of frying meat, and instead of the respectful silence Zuko is used to, the air is filled with noise. The only change that Zuko can whole-heartedly appreciate is the lack of air nomad skeletons. 

“I notice that you’ve made a lot of changes, here,” Zuko says. “In the Western Air Temple, there was a sealed room. Have you managed to enter it?”

The mechanist shakes his head regretfully. “I’m afraid not. I’ve been curious about what it contains for some time, but I simply can’t figure out how to access it.”

Zuko nods. “The _Wani’s_ engineer worked on creating bellows as a way to unlock the sealed room in the Western Air Temple, but the motion of the air required to unlock it was too complex.” 

The mechanist’s singed, patchy eyebrows rise slightly with interest, and Zuko finds himself shyly offering, “If you like, Engineer Hanako could come by tomorrow and the two of you could work together on it?”

The mechanist nods enthusiastically. After the rest of the tour, which, unsurprisingly, reveals no Avatar, Zuko returns to the _Wani_ and informs Engineer Hanako of her new partner in crime.

Engineer Hanako grins in a way that is frankly a bit scary. "Are you going to make Helmsman Kyo answer to me again?" She asks cheerily.

"...sure?" Zuko replies, wondering if he's making some sort of terrible mistake. It's hard to feel that way, though, with Engineer Hanako grinning like that. 

Engineer Hanako and the Northern Air Temple's mechanist immediately get along like a house on fire. Soon the two of them are talking constantly about this or that equation and how doing _this_ might make the air more curved and how _that_ will make it more efficient. It all sounds like nonsense to Zuko, but it's oddly heartening nonsense, nonetheless. 

At first, Zuko works alongside his crew and the refugees as they try to fulfill the plans the mechanist and Engineer Hanko cooked up. Quickly, however, he realizes that his presence only brings discomfort. Unlike the crewmen, who have little political relevance, he is a prince. And unlike Uncle Iroh, it’s difficult to forget it; he can’t hide behind talk of tea and being a kindly old man. All of his flaws, all of his sharp edges and inability to hold his tongue, is immediately evident. It doesn’t help that the destruction that flame is capable of is written out boldly across his face— Zuko can feel them staring at it when they think he isn’t looking.

The way they follow his movements with their eyes like prey tracking a predator, the stifling silence that always falls when he approaches, the accusation hidden beneath their superficial, fear-driven respect, all of it sickens him. Zuko ends up spending his time in the _Wani_ instead, no matter how much Uncle Iroh protests and tells him that the mechanist is happy to have them, that Zuko should socialize with people his own age. 

(The old workers who are laboring under Engineer Hanako and the mechanist can barely stand him, Zuko thinks bitterly. There is no way children would manage it.) 

Zuko’s birthday approaches. At home, there would have been a national celebration. The palace would be buzzing as a huge feast was prepared, school would be let out for the day, and in villages all around the nation, commoners would be busy preparing for a day full of festivities. There would be a hundred small gifts from courtiers looking to ingratiate themselves with the royal family, but also a precious handful of gifts from less politically important people— something for his swords from Master Piandao, perhaps a new sheath, a scroll from Anala, an extra-long sparring session with Qin Lee.

Frankly, Zuko doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday this year. It marks ten months since his banishment, ten months of failure and shame. Every mention of his birthday reminds him of that, and every reminder of time slipping from him makes Zuko’s throat tighten in a way that reminds him of when he was a child and narrowly escaped death by drowning.

But Uncle Iroh won’t have it. He tells the mechanist (Zuko _knows_ it was Uncle Iroh, no matter how many fruitless denials he may issue) about Zuko’s approaching birthday, and the mechanist proposes a birthday dinner in Zuko’s honor.

A dinner with people who fear and hate him, who are only doing this out of obligation— worse yet, out of obligation stemming from fear, Zuko thinks, an acidic taste filling his mouth. Perfect.

Still, now that the birthday dinner has been planned, it would be insulting to refuse. Zuko at least manages to alleviate the imminent awkwardness somewhat by requesting that the people simply prepare dinner as they normally would. The dinner will be bad enough without making any of their tender-tongued hosts suffer from the heat of Fire Nation food, Zuko knows.

On the morning of Zuko’s birthday, he wakes up to a small mountain of presents on his bedside table. Zuko had thought that Uncle would get him a present, probably something kitschy and functionally useless; he had never expected for what seems like the entire crew to bother to get him presents. Fingers trembling, Zuko carefully unwraps each one; the short, sharp knife from Engineer Hanako, the tiny carving of a dragon out of driftwood from Hawker Genji, the bowl of extra spicy fire flakes from Assistant Cook Dekku. If anyone asks, Zuko will say that the odd moisture about his eyes is just from how spicy the fire flakes are.

And so it is that despite the dreaded dinner's approach, Zuko is in a surprisingly good mood that morning. He hums a bit to himself as he eats in the mess hall, and when Lieutenant Jee does a double-take upon realizing that the humming is coming from _him_ , Zuko can't help but stifle a dry chuckle. After breakfast, Zuko thanks each crewman for their gifts, and doesn’t even get too angry at Uncle Iroh for his rather pointed gift of a tsungi horn. (Zuko is _bad_ at playing the tsungi horn, okay, and it’s shameful for him to play it if he can’t do it right.)

It’s kind of ironic that’s it another gift that sends him right back into his usual bad mood.

It comes on a shirshu-raven, black as night and sleek as silk except for where the bulbous tentacles of its nose spread open in a grotesque mockery of a blossoming flower. There is an envelope tied to its leg, and on that envelope, there is the royal seal.

For a moment, Zuko simply stares, and then he scrambles to pry it open, heart in his throat and inner fire flickering like a candle in the wind. In his haste, a tiny, light object slips out of between the folds of thick, high-quality paper, and it’s only through Zuko’s quick reflexes that he manages to prevent the wind from carrying it away.

Zuko brings the object close to his good eye to consider it. It doesn’t take much examination to see what it is; he’s been secretly collecting the feathers the turtleducks shed for years. As a child, he had thought that turtleducks were the fluffiest things in the world, and he had harbored a secret desire to create a pillow stuffed with them. He had known that simply telling a servant would lead to one being created for him immediately, but Zuko had been determined that no turtleducks would be killed in the making of his pillow, and so he had collected turtleduck feathers for years in the hopes of creating a pillow stuffed with only freely shed feathers.

This particular feather wasn’t given willingly at all, judging by the dried blood crusting the nib.

Zuko’s fingers shudder and shake as he smooths out the paper. _If you work hard, you may make it home before I run out of turtleducks._ It isn’t signed. It doesn’t need to be; Zuko would recognize that slanted, crisp calligraphy anywhere. It's better than Zuko's, just like everything else about her.

Zuko’s stomach spasms, and he swallows back bile. He isn’t sure what he feels when he thinks of Azula; he only knows whatever it is, it _hurts_.

Zuko’s family is his foundation. It is the cornerstone upon which all else is built, the source from which his desire for honor stems out from; he never needed to be told that part of being honorable was to make his father proud, or protect his sister, or listen to his mother.

Despite his determination, Zuko has only managed to succeed in one of those.

Zuko has tried, of course. It is not in his nature to give up, and he _loves_ Azula. But every attempt to protect Azula has ended in pain, either by his father’s hand or Azula’s, and he fails, fails, fails every single time. Somewhere between the time Azula left him dangling by his neck from the ceremonial ropes in the throne room and the day she laughingly told him that their father was going to kill him, Zuko began to wonder if Azula needed his protection at all. 

He never acted on that thought, of course. He knows it’s selfish, that protecting her is his duty as her brother. But being Azula’s brother is _so painful_. Zuko’s relationship with Azula is like a wound, one that has the scab ripped from it again every time he tries just one more time to be the older brother she deserves. 

Many things Zuko does hurt. Sometimes he thinks that _everything_ he does hurts; even the good things lead to more pain, inevitably, like the way that the Fire Nation's interrogators will heal their prisoners before beginning torture again. So maybe it shouldn't matter to him that Azula hurts him. But Azula does it on purpose. Azula is… she’s _cruel_. 

Zuko bites the side of his thumb, hard. It is not his place to pass moral judgment on his sister, he rebukes himself. She is a prodigal firebender, a perfect royal, the one who Father loves. Zuko can barely produce flame at all, has been banished, and ~~was nearly killed by Father for his insolence~~ is the unfavored child. It is not his place. 

It’s like Father, Zuko thinks. Father already has his honor, so he doesn’t need to think about the morality of his actions. Unlike with Zuko, Father and Azula’s honor has never hung by the thread of a string, able to swayed by their actions. By virtue of who they are, they simply _are_ honorable, regardless of what they do. 

_~~Qin Lee said that a true warrior does not be cruel to prove their strength. Does that… does that mean that Azula feels weak? That she’s scared she’s not strong enough?~~ If so, then it only makes Zuko more of a failure, for not being there to allay her fears._

Zuko’s head is still throbbing with these thoughts when he comes to his birthday dinner. His eyes feel heavy and hot, and he can’t help but run his fingers over the turtleduck feather in his pocket, although he's not sure if the action brings him comfort or just more pain.

Zuko is silent during the dinner, not wanting to make his hosts even more uncomfortable. When the food has been eaten (Zuko hardly touches his; his stomach is too twisted) they go around the table and the refugees offering back-handed compliments to Zuko. They thank him for his kindness (and it just _burns_ that _not burning their home to the ground_ is what qualifies as _kind_ by their standards for him) his handsome appearance (except for the _very obvious_ scar that ruins any semblance beauty he might have once achieved), his excellent leadership (half the time, Lieutenant Jee is the one ordering Zuko _not to climb that, Prince Zuko, you’re going to break your leg,_ or telling him to _go to bed, Prince Zuko, you need to get some sleep_ ). It's _ridiculous_.

At a couple of them (mostly the ones complimenting his kindness) Zuko has to pierce through the flesh of his thumb with the nib of the turtleduck feather just to keep his composure. It’s when they reach the mechanist’s son, a boy of ten, that things truly go awry. Evidently, Teo hasn’t picked up on the biting sarcasm underlying all of the so-called “compliments” to Zuko, because he explodes with anger.

“I’m not complimenting this _ashmaker_!” he spits. “I don’t even get why we’re having this party! Birthdays are supposed to celebrate people’s existence, but I wish that he didn’t exist, because then maybe my mom would still be alive!” 

Zuko freezes, feeling blood drip hot and wet as magma across his palm. He dares not open his mouth because then the inner flame heating his throat and licking the roof of his mouth would escape. His heart is pounding rapidly in his chest. The child—Teo, he thinks his name is—has just dishonored Zuko just about as deeply as is possible. It’s well within rights to demand an Agni Kai to resolve the situation— in fact, it’s _expected_ of him. 

Zuko is still frozen as Lieutenant Jee shoots to his feet. “Apologize to Prince Zuko,” he orders, a cold note in his voice that Zuko hasn’t heard before. Zuko closes his eyes, trying not to frown too noticeably. Jee has always hated Zuko; why is he choosing _now_ to stand up for him? 

Teo shakes his head, making his shaggy hair whip around his chubby face. Zuko’s fingers are trembling so hard he thinks the blood dripping from his hand will form a spatter pattern wild enough to confuse even the most carefully trained commander. Zuko swallows back his flame with effort and speaks. “Lieutenant Jee, sit down.” 

Lieutenant Jee shoots a look at Zuko, incredulous. “Prince Zuko, he insulted your honor.”

“I _have no honor_.” More than a few chopsticks slip out of shock-loosened hands to clatter against porcelain. Zuko is standing, although he can't remember rising from his seat. Sparks that he didn’t quite manage to swallow escape past his lips.

Zuko swallows, licking sparks off of his chapped lips, and tries again. “Lieutenant Jee, I appreciate your support, but I am not challenging a _ten-year-old nonbender_ to an Agni Kai over a petty insult directed to a, need I remind you, _banished_ prince.”

The table is dead silent, now. Zuko can feel their eyes on him; at least now they’re not just staring at his scar, some part of him thinks distantly.

“I would never suggest such a thing,” Lieutenant Jee says at last, sounding dazed and disturbed. Against his will, Zuko can feel something inside him release, and he collapses into his seat like a puppet with the strings cut. “I was only suggesting that the boy apologize.”

“He’s already made it clear that he won’t,” Zuko replies, after taking a deep breath to center himself. “If I demand an apology and he refuses— as he has made clear that he will— then _not_ fighting an Agni Kai, even if I am the one to make that decision, will dishonor him.”

It will also dishonor Zuko, but Zuko _has_ no honor.

Lieutenant Jee nods reluctantly.

Zuko bows formally to the mechanist. “Thank you for your hospitality.” He rises once more, this time at a more reasonable pace, and moves to leave. After a split second, the crew follows him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Uncle Iroh told Zuko to make friends, he didn't think Zuko would interpret that to mean _tell prospect friends that you won't fight them just because they insulted you_ but that works too, he supposes!  
> 
> 
> Zuko: compliments? Fake, Incorrect, Do Not Exist, What are Compliments?  
> 
> 
> Zuko: I have no honor
> 
> his crew, who are 1000% ride or die for their honorable dumbass: ...uh, wut? 
> 
> .2 seconds later, the crew listening to Zuko telling Lieutenant Jee that Teo doesn't need to apologize for literally saying he wishes Zuko was dead: literally w h a t did you just say about honor?


	7. the Guru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Wani_ heads to the Eastern Air Temple.
> 
> cw in the end notes.

The morning following Zuko’s disastrous birthday dinner, the _Wani_ sets sail towards the Eastern Air Temple. The journey to the Eastern Air Temple will be longer than the legs of their voyage have been thus far— the broad curve of the continent’s Eastern shores prevents the direct routes that allowed them to save time in the past. 

Additionally, the land they will be passing is the heart of Earth Kingdom territory. According to soldiers' rumor, villagers here bleed mud, and anyone with so much as a gleam of fire-tone to their eyes is put to death without trial— and that's before taking into account that the _Wani_ carries the general who besieged Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. It will be a good few months until it's safe to dock at even the most barren spit of land.

Luckily, by now Zuko and his crew are well-practiced at finding ways to amuse themselves. They return to sparring almost before the ship even casts off, and when sparring grows stale, Satomi devises a new training exercise to keep all of their wits sharp.

The basic premise is this— sparring is no longer confined to specific periods of time. Satomi attacks without warning; in the mess hall, during long, boring night watches, even once when Zuko is in his cabin shaving his head. The crew seems a bit uneasy at first, but after they watch Zuko startle over and over again while managing _not_ to char his assailant to a crisp, they enthusiastically join in. Zuko supposes there's not much else to do on such a small ship, and that every subordinate secretly wants to attack their commanders at least a little bit. Zuko knows that if _he_ had had an opportunity to give Master Haruhi a good scare without the threat of the retribution, he would have taken it in a split second. 

As a result of this inventive new training, Zuko’s reflexes grow far better. Zuko can now sense flame even when he’s not actively looking out for it, and if he _does_ actively concentrate, he can tell if there’s a firebender within a few feet of him just using his heat sense. He can also perceive with decent accuracy if there's a non-bender nearby, although the lower body temperature makes it more difficult. 

Zuko has been developing other skills, too. Engineer Hanako insists that there’s no point in owning a knife if you don’t know how to use it, so recently her free time has been spent instructing Zuko on what she knows of knife fighting. Zuko has to admit that knife fighting _does_ seem like a useful skill; as Engineer Hanako points out, it’s good to be able to fight at close range, and close-range combat is a lot easier with a weapon rather than just your hands. Furthermore, Zuko’s firebending is functionally about as dangerous as a candle at the moment, so it’s good for him to have a backup weapon. 

Despite her self-appointed post as Zuko's knife fighting teacher, Engineer Hanako doesn’t actually know a whole lot about knife fighting. What she _does_ know is sporadic, pieced together from personal experience and a variety of different fighting styles that she dabbled in at one point or another. To supplement his education, Engineer Hanako teaches him other knife-related skills; how to hide a knife on his person so that it’s difficult to find even if he’s searched thoroughly, what parts of the human body are most vulnerable to a quick stab, and how to flip a knife in the air so he always catches it by the handle (Engineer Hanako says that particular skill is useful for intimidating opponents into simply giving up before the fight even begins. She smirks at Helmsman Kyo when she says this, which Zuko ignores with the ease of long practice.) The skill that Zuko finds most interesting, however, is when she teaches him how to use firebending to forge himself a blade out of available metal.

“This skill will be very useful if you have your weapons taken from you,” Engineer Hanako explains as she teaches him how to gather heat in his fingertips so he can press metal into shape. “If you have your swords and your knives taken from you, this will allow you to procure a weapon quickly. Most captors will have no qualms with leaving a prisoner around metal, as it’s not water, earth, or fire and thus cannot be conventionally bent. But,” Engineer Hanako grins, “just because metal _itself_ cannot be bent doesn’t mean a bender can’t use their abilities to change metal’s shape.” 

After observing Engineer Hanako's knife-fighting lessons with Zuko, the rest of the crew seems eager to teach him other skills as well. Some of the lessons go better than others. When Lieutenant Jee shows him a couple of firebending tricks he picked up on the battlefield, Zuko takes to them like a turtleduck to water. He’s also a quick study when it comes to the basic first aid Medic Ichika shows him, but Helmsman Kyo’s attempts to teach Zuko to conceal his true emotions end in catastrophic failure— and so much lost money on Zuko's part that Uncle Iroh firmly forbids him from ever gambling again. Similarly, Hawker Genji’s offer to teach Zuko how to use a bow and arrow is quickly retracted after Zuko's abysmal depth perception leads to him nearly shooting Crewman Teruko in the foot on his first attempt, and no matter how patiently their chef explains the art of cooking, Zuko continues to burn rice, fish, and even _water_ — a feat which the crew finds perversely impressive. 

Despite all that Zuko is doing, he can’t shake a lingering sensation that he’s simply _not doing enough_. The approaching anniversary of his banishment hardly helps, of course. Zuko finds himself struggling to sleep due to nightmares— or more accurately, a single recurring nightmare. In it, he fancies that he has at long last managed to capture the avatar. Zuko is leading the age-hardened man through the palace in chains, allowing everyone to witness their prince's victory just as they had once witnessed his disgrace. Familiar faces line the halls; there is Qin Lee, wearing the crooked smile that always made itself known when Zuko managed to beat him unexpectedly; over there is Huang, her eyes are shining in welcome, and beside her is Anala, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with happiness. Zuko is filled with a relief that is so great it almost hurts.

The relief buoys him up like hot air filling a balloon as he enters his father’s throne room. His father reaches out to cup his face with one gentle hand, and Zuko smiles, closing his eyes as he leans into the loving touch. 

It’s at that moment of perfect relief, of perfect catharsis, that the perfection shatters and splinters, revealing the truth beneath. His father hisses, “you are too late, Prince Zuko,” and his face is consumed in flame so hot that it burns as cold as the North's ice. This time, it spreads, hungrily lapping up every inch of flesh until at last the agony is so great that Zuko starts awake, his scar throbbing painfully and his heart racing in his chest like a frightened mouse-rabbit. 

There are other dreams, too— dreams where Zuko comes home but finds that the turtleduck pond now holds only blood and charred bones instead of clear water and peaceful turtleducks, dreams where Zuko returns too late and finds that an age has passed since he has left and the dynasty of his ancestors has crumbled to dust, dreams where the doors of the palace will not open to him even though he has brought the Avatar home in chains. But the dream where his father burns his face as punishment for his lateness is the most frequent— and the worst.

Zuko is not sure how, but some way or another, Zuko manages to make it through the anniversary of his banishment. In the wake of the revelation that he has now been banished for a full year, he trains harder than ever. He practices his katas obsessively, spars with greater and greater numbers of his crew at a time, and reads endless scrolls to prepare himself for his confrontation with the Avatar.

As Zuko demands more and more challenging preparation, Satomi develops another inventive new training exercise. Similar to Hide and Explode, the participating members (Zuko’s crew keeps calling them “players” but they are _not players, this is a very serious training exercise and definitely not a game!_ ) will attempt to slip unnoticed throughout the ship and dispatch their opponents by employing the element of surprise. Zuko quickly becomes quite skilled at this, and in order that ~~the game remains fair~~ the training exercise remains challenging, they start counting just Zuko as a full team. 

Over time, the crew picks up some of his tricks, but in turn, Zuko develops new ones. They learn that he uses the ventilation ducts, so Zuko changes to climbing along the support beams instead. They realize that he has a tendency to attack whoever is nearest instead of acting strategically, and they employ that weakness until he notices and forces himself to stop acting on impulse. Every flaw in his tactics which they exploit, he answers with a newer, stronger solution. 

When the _Wani_ briefly stops at an outpost along the peninsula to get supplies, the crew tries the training exercise out in some woods nearby to see how new terrain will affect Zuko’s odds. For the first few rounds, the crew manages to capture Zuko embarrassingly quickly, but by the _Wani_ ready to depart, Zuko has learned a lot about navigating wooded areas swiftly and silently ~~and had a lot of fun~~.

As they resume sailing, Zuko’s skills only continue to improve. By now he has learned everything Engineer Hanako has to teach him when it comes to knife fighting, he knows how to identify and treat most common ailments, and the crew struggles to beat him at their modified version of Hide and Explode even with everyone working together— to the point that recently Engineer Hanako has taken to suggesting that Zuko should train with a bell tied to his ankle to even the odds. After more than a year of banishment, Zuko _finally_ thinks he has a chance at being able to earn his honor back by subduing the Avatar. 

The only problem is that, like the previous two Air Temples, there _doesn’t seem to be an Avatar to capture_. The once great-Air Temple looks more like rubble than the stronghold of the Fire Nation's most dangerous enemy, and Zuko struggles to imagine the Avatar so much as spending a night there, let alone the last hundred years. But then again, Zuko reassures himself, perhaps that’s the point; the Avatar may be using the Eastern Air Temple’s state of disrepair to block anyone from realizing that it’s his hiding place. 

(Despite what Zuko is telling himself, he isn’t very hopeful at this expedition's prospects. At least there aren’t any skeletons this time.)

When they enter the entrance hall of the Air Temple and very nearly trip over a yellow-robed old man meditating on the cracked tile floor, Zuko can hardly believe his eyes. Perhaps that's why, instead of signaling to his crew to capture the man before he becomes aware of the crew's presence, Zuko finds himself foolishly blurting out, “Are— are you the Avatar?” 

The man opens his eyes, and his cheeks dimple as he laughs. “No, I’m afraid that I am not." He bows with the flame, something which Zuko has never known a foreigner to do. "I am Guru Pathik.” 

Zuko narrows his eyes suspiciously even as his heart sinks, heavy with resignation, in his chest. The man may be lying, he tells himself. It’s true that his skin tone isn’t the light, slightly olive-tinted shade that was most common among the Air Nomads, but Zuko also knows that the Air Nomads adopted orphans from all over the world. And besides, what would someone be doing in an abandoned air temple, if they’re not the Avatar hiding from the world? 

Zuko must have voiced that last bit aloud, because Guru Pathik answers, “I am waiting for the Avatar to return so that I may instruct him.”

Zuko raises his eyebrow skeptically, but Guru Pathik isn’t showing any of the tells that Helmsman Kyo taught him to look for. 

“You, too, seek wisdom,” Guru Pathik says, meeting Zuko’s eyes calmly. “If you desire it, I will help you gain it.” 

Zuko thinks about it. It’s true that he still has a lot to learn about being honorable, and the more time he spends with the man, the more likely he’ll catch a mistake in his story. 

Zuko nods, and waves to his crew to indicate that they head on and check the rest of the temple. 

As his crew leaves, Zuko sinks into seiza across from Guru Pathik. “Please tell me how I should become honorable,” he requests.

Guru Pathik regards him solemnly. “Prince Zuko, you have already learned many important truths about honor,” he tells Zuko. “But some of what you believe is contradictory. If you wish for me to teach you anything else, you must first dispel the contradictions in what you already take for granted. After all, a house cannot be built on a rotten foundation.” 

Guru Pathik’s words send a jolt of panic through Zuko— and it's not just brought on by Zuko's usual inability to comprehend parables. For some reason, the thought of examining his beliefs for contradictions brings an instinctive dread and a sense that whatever he does, he should not look too deeply into ways his beliefs may contradict themselves. 

It's an odd sense, considering that Zuko isn’t even sure what the contradiction in what he believes is. Why should the thought of improving his honor in this way bring him so much fear? 

Somehow, Guru Pathik seems to understand what Zuko is grappling with. “I suspect that in addition to allowing contradictory beliefs to exist within you, you have been repressing your knowledge of this contradiction,” Guru Pathik tells him. He makes eye contact with Zuko, his expression solemn and a bit... sad, Zuko thinks with a note of confusion. “I know that addressing this contradiction is intimidating. Take all of the time you need to make your decision.” Guru Pathik’s voice has an uncharacteristic edge of urgency as he entreats, “But please at least consider it.” 

Zuko nods, rising from his seiza as he does so. 

Zuko _does_ consider it. He considers it as his crew clears away the rubbles, as they reveal the remains of what must have once been an air bison stable, as Lieutenant Jee investigates what Guru Pathik tells them is a meditation circle. He considers it as he eats during meal times, as he washes the dirt and sweat from his skin, as he stares at the ceiling of his cabin during the long nights when nightmares make sleep no more than a distant memory.

The temple has been almost completely searched when Zuko returns to Guru Pathik. 

“What do I need to do?” Zuko asks. He holds his hands in tight fists to conceal the way that they are trembling. 

Guru Pathik smiles, relief washing over his face. “Simply meditate without restricting your thoughts, and the contradiction will become clear in time.” 

Zuko nods stiffly and sits down across from Guru Pathik once more. The tension in him is so great that it takes him much longer than usual to be able to relax enough to meditate. Even once he’s meditating, it feels terribly unnatural simply allowing his thoughts to drift without snuffing any of them out. He learned to meditate before he so much as learned to write, and in the Fire Nation, meditation definitely does not include allowing thoughts to drift wherever they may please.

Discomfort roils through Zuko as all sorts of ideas best-buried rear their ugly heads once more. Memories of his nightmares rise through his mind like a tell-tale hair floating on the top of an otherwise delicious bowl of soup, and Zuko barely resists the urge to push them aside. _You're never going to find the Avatar at all_ , the voice of his insecurities whispers. In his chest, he feels the hot pain and anger that he had suppressed when the mechanist's son insulted him, a wet heat that reminds him of magma— or of the blood that dripped from his hand as he tried to keep his composure. 

Zuko forces himself to endure the troubling thoughts with the same fortitude that allowed him to unflinchingly endure lashings with the fire whip, but the thoughts that are rising around him grow darker and darker. Blood crusted on turtleduck feathers and the realization that _Azula is cruel_. Huddled skeletons like hoarded pellets, the clenching in his chest as he admitted that there was no way the air nomads had had an army. 

Zuko tries to pull back, to stop thinking these terrible, treasonous thoughts, but his mind is like a fire roaring out of control, and any attempts to slow the spread do about as much good as pouring water on a grease fire. Against his will, Zuko finds himself thinking of the air nomad scroll, of unrolling it in his cabin, of _to harm a child is a great sin_.

 _That’s just the Air Nomads being soft_ , Zuko reminds himself frantically. _Now stop thinking about this! This is treasonous!_ But Zuko can no more stop thinking about the contradiction he has discovered than he can return a raindrop to the clouds after it has fallen. Even now, his own thoughts turn against him, pointing out— _if it’s merely the Air Nomads being soft, then should you have fought an Agni Kai with the child who insulted you?_

Zuko can’t help but retch at the very thought. His face twists in pain and disgust, and the bitter taste of bile causes his throat to smart and throb. _No,_ Zuko vows with complete certainty. _No, definitely not._

It's as though two feral beasts rampaging through his mind, determined to rip each other to shreds no matter how much it harms the life around them. Zuko has to resolve this before it rips his mind and soul apart. Slowly, Zuko draws in a deep breath and _concentrates_. What is the underlying foundation of his honor? 

...his family, Zuko realizes. Of course. Zuko has always tried to be honorable for his father’s sake. The very first thing he learned about honor, before he even learned what honor _was_ , was his obligation to his family; to do what his father asked of him, to protect his sister, to listen to his mother. 

Obviously, the real contradiction is the fact that Zuko even spared a thought for what the air nomad scrolls had to say when it was so clearly in opposition to his father. Since the root of his honor is his family, it’s entirely illogical— if not dishonorable—to look for answers in things that contradict his family’s beliefs.

_...so then you believe that you should have fought, and almost certainly killed, the child? _An insidious voice within him asks.__

__

Zuko grits his teeth. The contradiction is still there, is still ripping at him, rotting away his foundations like an acid eating away at his innermost core. Zuko digs deeper, trying to find a way to end this struggle definitively.

__

...Zuko’s earliest memory is from very young, from long before he had ever heard of honor, from before Azula was so much as a swell in their mother’s belly. It is now hazy with age, but Zuko still remembers the important parts of it; slipping forward on the slick tiles of the turtleduck pond, grasping out for something to hold onto but failing to get purchase, sinking beneath the water. He still remembers the feeling of his lungs filling with water, the way that the edges of his vision went black and everything suddenly seemed so very far away. 

__

Zuko especially remembers the moment when strong hands had grasped him and pulled him up, up, _up_ into the light and air. His father’s hands, Zuko knows; Zuko had fisted one trembling hand around his father’s, and felt the smooth metal of the ring that Father always wore. For years afterward, Zuko would look at his father’s ring and think of the sweet relief of those strong hands cupping around him, rescuing him, and long to receive comfort from them once more.

__

(That memory is also the reason why Zuko first loved the turtleduck pond. Later it would be because of how downy and small the turtleducks were with their soft feathers and funny rounded beaks, and then even later because of the bittersweet memories of his mother that it brought back, but at first, it was because sitting by it reminded him that his father had seen him drowning and reached in, though he must have known that it would get his hands wet and muck-stained, and had _saved him_.)

__

Zuko thinks he understands, now. Father has never hurt Azula, he knows, and Father only hurts Zuko after he does something wrong ~~although Zuko generally doesn’t understand what it is~~. Plus, after Father punishes Zuko, he seems less angry, and he gets angry because Zuko is dishonorable. 

__

So this is the truth about honor; hurting _most_ children is bad, but not Zuko, since Zuko deserves it. Unlike honorable children, Zuko _needs_ punishment so that he will become better.

__

Zuko feels the terrible pain of contradiction ease in his chest, and he slowly opens his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Guru Pathik,” he says. He doesn’t notice the pain in Pathik’s eyes as the guru watches him leave.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: victim blaming + justification of abuse, implied/referenced past self harm, drowning. 
> 
> The concept of Ozai saving Zuko from drowning comes from the delightful _Afternoon Tea_ by toribird. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in some fluffy, soft zukka with a healthy helping of light angst mixed in.
> 
> The crew of the _Wani_ rlly be out here tricking Zuko into playing games instead of stressing out all the time. Next chapter Jee will probably be like Prince Zuko drink this hot chocolate we need you to train your tolerance for hot drinks. Chapter after that, Engineer Hanako will probably have Zuko learn how best to ~~accept being hugged you feral touch-starved dumbass~~ escape an enemy's full-body hold.


	8. the Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guru Pathik meets the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, and Zuko struggles to cope with all the emotions his experience with the guru have stirred up. 
> 
> cw in the end notes

The Fire Prince’s chakras are veiled by the same fog that clouds the eyes of the blind. Nearly every Fire Nation soldier Guru Pathik has encountered has chakras cloaked with cobwebs and dust, but Pathik has never seen a case as severe as that of the young prince. When he looks at Prince Zuko’s aura haloing him as warm and golden-orange as the gentle heat of afternoon sunlight, he thinks he understands. Such naturally considerate souls must always delude themselves in the Fire Nation. 

His Throat Chakra _aches_ in empathy, but that’s not the main reason he resolves to do everything he possibly can to heal the prince. 

"I can aide you in your search for wisdom," he tells the prince. He thinks of how much blood would have gone unshed if Fire Lord Sozin, or Fire Lord Azulon, or Fire Lord Ozai, had been just a little bit wiser. Prince Zuko, though banished, is still Crown Prince and heir to the Dragon Throne. Guru Pathik knows that a clear-gazed Fire Lord, one who doesn’t allow his body to forget its natural gentleness, would be like a healing balm upon the worlds’ wounds. 

This is the moment where the air falls away, Guru Pathik thinks, and he can only hope. The Fire Prince might bristle at his impudence, a foreign peasant daring to imply that _he_ has any wisdom to impart to the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation— but instead, Prince Zuko nods and sends his retinue away with a wave of his hand. Prince Zuko doesn’t acknowledge it, but his entourage moves slowly, reluctantly, eyes lingering on their prince with a protectiveness that Guru Pathik suspects stems from more than mere professionalism. Perhaps, even with his blocked Throat Chakra, the strength of his aura is enough to shine through in his actions. The thought brings Guru Pathik a hint of hope, enough to ready himself for the next risk. 

Now for the second moment of weightlessness, this time as Guru Pathik points out the contradiction the Crown Prince carries within himself. Clouded chakras are a telltale sign of internal disbalance, and such dense cover means the disbalance can only come from the Throat Chakra, where the energies concerned with truth and lies gather. Prince Zuko is lying to himself about something, and then lying to himself that there is anything to lie about, feeding a self-fulfilling cycle that spreads fog over the rest of his chakras. 

Prince Zuko is obviously distressed, but unlike many a Fire Nation commander Guru Pathik has encountered, he does not take it out on anything except for his own hands— the prince is fisting his hands so tightly that Guru Pathik suspects when he uncurls them, round crescents of blood will indent the soft folds of his palms. 

The third moment of weightlessness comes, and this time lingers much longer. Guru Pathik suspects the prince, even with his odd open-mindedness and noble aura, will not return to him. 

Prince Zuko comes back on the third morning of the third week following their arrival. Guru Pathik feels sweet relief pooling in his Fire and Air Chakras, relaxing the taut lines of his wrinkled face. The Prince has been tested thrice, and thrice he has passed. Now, he will have his blessing— and so will the world. 

Prince Zuko doesn't seem to know that he's receiving a blessing. The stillness as he meditates is not the calm stillness of someone as firmly settled as a deeply rooted rock. It is the stillness of terrified prey trying very hard not to tremble nor flinch, of a rabbit-mouse frozen perfectly still in tall grass to avoid hungry eyes. Guru Pathik feels an edge of unease staining his relief. 

The fog around Prince Zuko’s Earth Chakra begins to clear, and the edge of unease sharpens to a blade held close to vulnerable skin. Guru Pathik, realizing the incredibly obvious damage to Prince Zuko’s Throat Chakra, had neglected to even consider the state of the others. He sees the terrible foolishness in that mistake now, and can only pray that the young prince will not pay for it. 

It’s a good thing that Prince Zuko's eyes are closed because Guru Pathik can’t help but stare, barely able to believe his third eye. The young prince's Earth Chakra is swollen like a bloated belly, burdened with so much energy that it has become inflamed and, Guru Pathik imagines, tender to even the slightest stimulus. The Earth Chakra deals with a person’s most basic, primal needs— food, water, sleep, all of the necessities of life. How does a _crown prince_ end up devoting so much of his energy to such base needs? What has led his body’s internal systems to believe they are in danger of having basic needs unfulfilled? 

Guru Pathik is still reeling, still trying to reign in his sense of sheer _sickness_ at seeing such a disturbing sight, when a fraction of the Earth Chakra’s blockage shifts. Slowly, energy from the Earth Chakra trickles out, draining like pus seeping out of a punctured boil. Guru Pathik breathes a sigh of relief, feeling a release of tension similar to that which Prince Zuko must be experiencing.

Usually, Guru Pathik would advise against the partial opening of a Chakra, but there is so much energy stored in Prince Zuko’s Earth Chakra that Guru Pathik fears a full opening could overload his system with untamed energy. With most of his internal power going to the Earth Chakra, his other energy stores will be like the shrunken bellies of the starving. And, like famine victims vomiting as their bodies struggle to process the food they have gorged themselves on, Prince Zuko's starved chakras may reject the same thing that they so desperately need. Guru Pathik shudders. Loose energy, uncontained by a chakra, is a dangerous and exceptionally painful thing. 

The fog clears from the Water Chakra, and Guru Pathik’s heart drops. The Water Chakra is even worse than he had suspected it would be. If chakras are pools of water, then Prince Zuko’s Water Chakra is a diminutive, stagnant puddle in a marshland, so choked with weeds, dirt, and peat that it is more saturated solid than true liquid. 

Guru Pathik gapes as the Earth Chakra’s energy _passes right through the Water Chakra like it isn’t even there_. There aren’t so much as ripples on the Water Chakra’s pond; the energy rolls right over the Water Chakra as though it really is solid ground. There are so many things wrong with this series of events, from the way the energies from the two chakras are repelled from each other like oil from water to the way Prince Zuko's Water Chakra is so stagnant, it’s as though energy hasn’t properly circulated there in _years_ — 

The energy flows through to the Fire Chakra and suddenly Guru Pathik understands, because the Fire Chakra is just as, if not _more_ inflamed than the Earth Chakra. No wonder the Water Chakra is so neglected— all of Prince Zuko’s energy is split between the Earth Chakra and the Fire Chakra, leaving little to circulate in the other chakras. Then Guru Pathik thinks of how bloated Prince Zuko’s Throat Chakra must be, and winces. Make that "little" from earlier _none_. He’s not sure if _any_ of Prince Zuko’s chakras will be able to siphon off this excess energy.

Sure enough, the Air Chakra is as stagnant as the Water Chakra before it; the energy within it moves sluggishly, like honey halfway to crystalization. Guru Pathik watches with morbid fascination as the waves of unbridled energy break upon the blockage around the densely packed energy of the Throat Chakra. He’s not sure what the preferred scenario is in this situation— there’s nowhere for the energy to go except into the Throat Chakra, but if the Throat Chakra is unblocked, it will only release even more energy. 

Already the excess energy, lingering in the prince’s unprotected body instead of safely stored in his chakras, is beginning to shred at the soft tissue of his upper chest as it presses eagerly towards his Throat Chakra. The soft, candle-light halo of his aura is beginning to flicker dangerously, and Guru Pathik can see the loose energy peeling away from the Throat Chakra, turning aside to twist in Prince Zuko's belly like gathering storm clouds.

Guru Pathik is about to tear his eyes away, having no interest in watching a child’s internal organs be torn apart by infected energy, when he sees something entirely unexpected. Prince Zuko’s Air Chakra is beginning to circulate more fluidly. Slowly, slowly, the infected energy is being siphoned inwards; Guru Pathik watches with bated breath as Prince Zuko spools the energy back up like rolling up a ball of yarn.

The Air Chakra is now polluted, residue from the Fire and Earth Chakras floating in the pooled energy like oil on top of once-clean water, but at least Prince Zuko is no longer in immediate danger of being torn apart. Guru Pathik breathes out a long sigh of relief, feeling his heart slowly beginning to return to a normal pace instead of the rabbit-mouse beat of a moment before.

As he watches the young prince leave, Guru Pathik can’t help the guilt that twists within him. In his eagerness to do good for the world, he hadn’t considered what would be good for the boy. It had never occurred to him that the Fire Prince could have further issues in his chakra system besides his deceptions and justifications of the Fire Nation’s imperialism. Guru Pathik can feel guilt clogging his Fire Chakra, forming a bitter film coating the back of his tongue. 

When he sees the Fire Prince next, Guru Pathik offers to teach him all that his long life has allowed him to learn about honorable dealings with spirits. It’s a meager token, considering Guru Pathik’s foolishness almost cost the Fire Prince his life, but by the way Prince Zuko’s chakra flares and the energy in his Water Chakra sluggishly twitches, it’s something, at least. 

Guru Pathik must note that it is hard to feel much like teaching Prince Zuko is penance, when the prince is such a diligent student. Prince Zuko listens intently as Guru Pathik explains about the two minds of spirits, about the proper way to request an audience with a spirit, about the dangers of asking for a spirit’s name. Guru Pathik is astounded that the prince is willing to listen to him at all, let alone so steadfastly, considering what he in his negligence nearly allowed to occur. 

Personally, Zuko has no idea of the true danger of the situation he was in. He whole-heartedly believes (or at least tells himself he whole-heartedly believes) that he has managed to resolve his contradiction, and _that_ is why Guru Pathik is now willing to teach him. As a child, he always enjoyed spirit tales, and he’s always been eager to learn more about behaving honorably. Honestly, when the crew of the _Wani_ finishes clearing out the Eastern Air Temple, he’s a bit disheartened to leave. The journey to the Southern Air Temple isn’t as long as the trip from the Southern Air Temple to the Eastern Air Temple was, but isn’t something to scoff at, either, and learning with Guru Pathik had been a welcome change from the monotony of life aboard the _Wani_.

On the previous leg of the journey, boredom had broken Zuko’s spirit enough that he had devolved to ~~playing Hide and Explode with his crew~~ involving his crew in ever more complex training exercises, and Zuko can feel the same pressure wearing on him once more. Engineer Hanako insists that if they start that particular training method up again, Zuko will have to wear a bell, and the thought of belling a prince of the blood like a tamed cat-fox is enough to dissuade Zuko for now, but he worries eventually time will wear through even _his_ pride. 

For now, Zuko focuses on honing other skills. He practices his katas as often as Uncle Iroh will let him, he now requires four firebenders working together to challenge his flame-quenching abilities, and through constant practice, his fire sense has become distinct enough that he can sense firebenders’ approach even while not actively on the alert. Similarly, his sparring matches with his crew continue, as do his lessons with anyone will instruct him.

The crew is beginning to run out of things for him to learn. Uncle Iroh offers to teach him how to brew tea, which at first makes Zuko sneer, but when Uncle Iroh points out the importance of _actually making tea_ in tea ceremonies, Zuko agrees. He regrets this decision when Lieutenant Jee then takes this turn of events to mean that _offering to teach Zuko to play the pipa_ is a reasonable idea. The next morning, Zuko agrees to wear a bell if that’s what it takes for the crew to ~~play Hide and Explode with him~~ return to assisting him with his stealth training exercises. 

Zuko’s unceasing need for action isn’t just teenage boredom. Every time he so much as sits still, no matter how exhausted he may be, he can hear his father’s voice, asking why Zuko rests when he hasn’t captured the Avatar yet. Zuko is wasting time, can feel it slipping through his fingers like so many grains of sand. No matter what he does, whether he researches airbending in order to better anticipate the Avatar’s possible attacks or reviews knife attacks with Engineer Hanako, it can never quite silence sinking sensation of approaching failure, only muffle it.

The nights are the worst. Uncle Iroh tells him that’s it’s entirely reasonable to sleep, that his father does not expect Zuko to work night and day (Zuko is pretty sure his father actually does, but it’s nice of Uncle Iroh to lie to him), that no warrior can fight without their rest. Still, no matter what Uncle Iroh says, no matter how many mugs of hot milk Lieutenant Jee brings him, Zuko struggles to sleep. When he tries to sleep, his muscles will tense as he thinks of all the things that he ought to be doing. Even when he _does_ manage to drift off, his nightmares torment him back into the same guilt-tainted wakefulness; he dreams of unfulfilled duties, of faces burning beneath a father’s gentle touch, of being left to drown in the turtleduck pond. 

Sleep is for the honorable, Zuko muses to himself grimly during one midnight vigil. He runs his finger along the turtleduck feather Azula sent him, lost in thought. He wonders if there are any turtleducks left in the pond, or if there is only charred bone and plucked feathers left of his first friends.

 _Azula is cruel_ , his own remembered voice whispers. Zuko’s hand clenches around the turtleduck feather, and the nib digs into his palm so hard that fresh blood joins what is already crusted there. _Azula is honorable no matter what she does_ , Zuko reminds himself firmly. _Just like Father._

Zuko presses a handkerchief to his punctured palm to staunch the flow of blood. The blood is a deep, jewel-toned color, the exact same shade as the proud flags of the Fire Nation. Was that why Father always hurt Zuko to bring back his honor, Zuko wonders through his haze of sleep deprivation. Was he trying to paint a flag of their proud nation using all of the blood he made Zuko spill? 

Zuko shakes his head. Father never spilled his blood; he preferred burning him. There was an irony there that he seemed to favor, burning Zuko for his failure to produce flame— for his failure to honor the Fire Nation.

What would Father do to him if he saw Zuko now? Would he grasp Zuko’s wrist in his unyielding, blazing hand until the smell of burning hair made the room reek and the servants struggle to hide their distaste? Or would Zuko’s dishonorable conduct require something more severe, some sort of suffering to balance out the suffering Zuko’s failures brought upon his family? 

...Zuko eyes the quill pen. There is something, some strange impulse, rising in his belly. Some sort of fear, mixed with a morbid eagerness. He tests the sharpness of the nib against his thumb, hissing as it draws blood. Taking a steadying breath, he draws the nib across his arm. The blood there is the same patriotic shade as it is where it still leaks from his palm. 

Father hurt Zuko so he could be more honorable. He isn’t here to punish Zuko anymore because Zuko has become so dishonorable that Father has ~~given up on him~~ nearly given up on him, but maybe if Zuko does it himself, it will help something. 

It certainly can’t hurt, Zuko knows. 

When Zuko falls asleep that night, it is in the deep, exhausted sleep of someone who, at least for the moment, feels at peace. Under his long-sleeved nightshirt, neat lines mar his pale forearm. On his desk, the nib of his turtleduck feather is clogged with fresh blood. 

As the _Wani_ continues on its course, Zuko begins to get into the habit of hurting himself. He thinks he understands why Father always punished him for his dishonor with pain, now. After cutting, he can always fall asleep more quickly, and his rest is deeper, plagued less often by nightmares. During the day the chafing of his clothes on his cuts will subtly remind him what’s at stake, helping him to concentrate during the long hours of training. Zuko also becomes less irritable as he ceases to wrongfully take his shame out on his crew and Uncle Iroh and instead unleashes it all on the true culprit— himself.

It’s about a month and a half into their most recent leg of the journey when Zuko’s new habit leads to some unexpected consequences. 

Before now, he’s always cut, but now he’s starting to wonder if maybe there was a reason Father always hurt him with fire. Is it more honorable, that way? A better tribute to the glories of their nation? In his cowardice, Zuko hates the thought of hurting himself with fire— it makes his chest constrict like he’s drowning all over again— but recently even cutting hasn’t prevented the guilt from stealing away all of his sleep.

Zuko tries to summon enough flame to burn himself just like Father would, but shamefully, he’s _scared_. Not even a flicker of heat will appear on his fingers, no matter how much he tries to tell himself that this is what he _wants_ , what he _needs_ , what is _honorable_. After what feels like hours of trying and trying and trying so hard that his inner flame shrinks small and spent as a dying ember, it occurs him to him that maybe, even if he can’t hurt himself with a proper firebender’s flame, he can still hurt himself with fire of another type. 

Thus Zuko finds himself slipping down to the boiler room at four degrees past deepest night, digging around through their coal stash until he finds a promising looking lump. He cups it his shaking hands and breathes a spark out around the lump in his throat. The coal catches, flaring up huge and bright and so, so hot— and just as quickly, Zuko instinctively snuffs it out, terror taking control of him before he can even think. Zuko tries again, breathing out another spark, but the lump of coal is about as flammable as ash now, so finally he sets it aside and digs out another lump of coal. 

It catches— _the bell chimes and he turns to see his father_ — and it’s gone now, snuffed out.

Another one, and this time he'll have enough conviction to keep the flame. The coal flares alight— _rise and fight, Prince Zuko_ — and again, it’s no more than ash in his hands. He swears lowly. 

Just one more try— _forgive me, Father, I meant no disrespect_ — it’s gone. Zuko tosses aside the useless remains of the lump of coal. 

He’s wasting coal but— _his father’s gentle hand cups his face—_ if he can just get it right then he can stop wasting it — _you must learn respect and suffering will be your teacher_. 

Heat in his hands and _the smell of his own burning flesh, his hair charring where his father tangles his fingers in it_ then just the fading remains of it. 

He’s such a failure but he can’t give up— _the flames won’t catch_. Zuko keeps on trying but the flames won’t catch, _his father is pressing harder but the flames won’t catch_.

A firebender is entering the room, Zuko can sense it even through the haze of fear and lack-of-air that is cloaking his senses. He flinches, cowering away— _his father cupping his face, flame so hot it burns cold as the ice of the North_ — dimly aware that he’s surrounded by piles of foolishly wasted coal. 

“Prince Zuko?” a voice asks from far away. Engineer Hanako, Zuko thinks vaguely.

“It won’t catch,” Zuko murmurs. “I keep trying— but it just won’t catch, Father will be so angry—”

Suddenly, there is a pair of thick, muscled arms wrapping around him, squeezing him close to a warm, solid body. Zuko stiffens, tensed for pain, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he finds himself being gently but firmly folded so that his head is resting on Engineer Hanako’s shoulder. A calloused hand runs through his hand through his hair, and somehow, inexplicably, no flame comes after. Somehow, it’s that— the lack of flames— that makes Zuko finally break and begin to weep. 

Later, Zuko will lie and say he simply had a nightmare that he could no longer firebend, and his panic had come from that. Later, Lieutenant Jee and Uncle Iroh will help him plot a course to the hinterlands of the Earth Kingdom, where they will be able to buy coal to replace what he has so idiotically wasted. Right now, however, all that Zuko can think about is the hand in his hair and the way no pain follows after it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: self-harm (cutting and burning), victim blaming, brief mention of starvation and refeeding syndrome (may also be triggering for binge/purge cycles), flashback/panic attack. 
> 
> disclaimer: I have taken liberties in my depiction of chakras in order to better portray the nuances of Zuko's mental state.
> 
> I was going to get a little further with the plot in this chapter, but the whole introspection with Zuko's mental state kind of got away from me. Hopefully you guys don't mind! We should be back to proper plot next chapter, and in maybe two or three more chapters we'll reach the start of season one. 
> 
> now for the memes!
> 
> Zuko is holding a wrapped box/present with a small face which reads "difficulty acknowledging nation's imperialistic past". he turns to the side, revealing that the wrapped box/present has a very long side, which reads "trauma from years of abuse and manipulation courtesy of Ozai, grief over the loss of his mom, fucked up ideas of what is expected from him and a complete lack of self preservation". The long side whacks Guru Pathik in the face and he gets a nosebleed. 
> 
> you, my long-suffering readers: what you got there
> 
> me, showing up with an ~~ostritch~~ chapter where Zuko has a mental breakdown: ~~a smoothie~~ a chapter featuring the hug and hot drinks I promised Zuko would get! :)
> 
> Engineer Hanako @ Zuko: oh dear, oh dear, gorgeous
> 
> Engineer Hanako @ Helmsman Kyo: you fucking donkey


	9. the Beetle-Headed Merchants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew worries over Prince Zuko. Huojin and Hawker Genji meet with the beetle-headed merchants to buy coal, and hear some interesting rumors.

The crew of the _Wani_ is worried about their young commander. 

Fire Nation royalty are not the sort one worries about. Or rather, not in the sense that the crew of the _Wani_ is worrying. Fire Nation royalty is worried about in the same sense that a sailor worries about a storm, that a traveler worries about a coiling viper, that farmers in the middle of the dry season worry about wildfires. 

Even the most staunch supporters of the Fire Lord do not worry _for_ him. Instead they see the roiling storm barely hidden beneath the thin veil of his humanity— hear the cold roll of thunder in his voice, see his gaze stripping all before it as surely as the biting breeze of a winter gale gnawing to the bone, feel his silences hanging as heavy as the weighty air in the still center of the storm. The only difference is that these are the storm-chasers, the ones who love the thrum of electricity in the air so much that it matters little to them that the crack of light and heat strikes them almost as often as it strikes their enemies. 

Prince Zuko does not seem much like a storm in human flesh, nor a coiled viper waiting to strike, nor a hungry wildfire. He is much more like a gentle spring shower, a lizard-cat sunbathing in a pool of sunlight, a small campfire. At times he shows a fierceness that speaks to his blood, but it is never wild, never out of control in the way that it is for his father and sister, and Prince Zuko only ever seems to find this fierceness within him on others' behalf— when he rises to speak against the planned massacre of the forty-first division, when he toils without pause to lay the air nomad skeletons to rest, when he behaves with utmost mercy and respect to a boy who _threatened his life on his birthday_. 

Mostly, the Crown Prince seems _human_. He seems human when he long-sufferingly agrees to play his uncle’s favorite song on the tsungi horn _but only because it’s Uncle's birthday_ , when he imitates their swearing like a tiny fox-kitten trying to fluff itself up into something worthy of fear, when he sheepishly agrees to wear a bell when playing Hide and Explode (and then gloats with a childishness that is delightful to see when he somehow _still beats them_.) 

Thus, the crew doesn’t worry about Prince Zuko like they worry about a storm, or a viper, or a wildfire. Instead they worry about the young prince like older siblings looking after a particularly danger-prone little brother. They worry about him when dark circles mar the porcelain-pale skin of his under eyes like deep bruises, when he insists on ever-longer training sessions, when he stops yelling and bristling like a feral fox-kitten and instead becomes uncharacteristically even-tempered. They especially worry when Engineer Hanako finds him in the boiler room, eyes glazed as he lights up coal after coal, seemingly trying to push through his fear of fire with all of the poise and finesse of a komodo rhino trying to break a hole in the wall by slamming against it repeatedly. 

There are a number of things worrying about the situation, from their sudden shortage of coal with no neutral ports nearby, to the flinch that the sudden sight of fire evidently still draws from him, to the way Prince Zuko positively _melts_ into Engineer Hanako's touch like he’s never had so much as a friendly clap on the shoulder. Personally, however, Engineer Hanako finds the glaze in his eyes and the hitch in his breath to be the most worrying, because, within those distant eyes, she sees the void. 

With regard to their new shortage of coal, Lieutenant Jee and General Iroh come up with the best solution possible in the circumstances. Using what coal is left, they will double back south until they reach Chameleon Bay. The majority of the crew will stay there while Huojin and Hawker Genji, who look passably Earth-blooded, will meet with the beetle-headed merchants under the guise of being simple traders in search of coal. The plan has some flaws— although Chameleon Bay has a reasonable amount of cover, it’s still dangerous to linger on Earth Kingdom shores, and as the beetle-headed merchants would never accept Fire Nation coin they will have to trade away the furs from Seahawk Harbor, which will make their time in the South Pole significantly more miserable— but all things considered, it’s a solid plan. 

The issue with Prince Zuko is more difficult to resolve, unfortunately. Lieutenant Jee continues bringing him hot milk every night, but the purple-black bruises beneath his eyes are as dark as ever. The crew begins tricking Prince Zuko into taking breaks, generally by claiming that _they_ themselves are tired. Satomi goads Prince Zuko into at least acting normally when sparring by claiming that his training exercises are nigh-useless if he doesn’t practice psychological takedowns along with physical takedowns.

Engineer Hanako also makes it a point to start casually touching the kid. In the past, it simply hadn’t occurred to her to ruffle his hair or nudge his side in the same way she does with the other crew members because he’s a _prince_ , and they’ve all had it drilled into them since birth to respect the royal family. And she _does_ respect the prince— just not in the same way she respects the Fire Lord. Engineer Hanako respects the prince because he is a kind, noble, and ridiculously honorable person, whereas she respects the Fire Lord because he is both dangerous and powerful, and to _not_ respect such a man would be too foolish even for her. 

The rest of the crew quickly follows Engineer Hanako’s lead, likely because they notice the way Prince Zuko avoids leaning into the touch like a cat-fox asking for more pets only through great self-control. Satomi begins giving Prince Zuko a friendly punch on the arm every time he loses a sparring match (they all pretend not to notice Prince Zuko losing a suspicious number of matches), General Iroh starts physically shifting Prince Zuko’s limbs as he explains firebending concepts, and Crewman Teruko establishes a habit of braiding the prince's hair every night so that it won’t tangle as he sleeps. 

(The little ritual reminds Zuko of Huang. Her birthday has passed since Zuko has seen her last— ~~of course it's passed, it's been more than a year~~ Zuko has neglected to provide her the usual hotcakes. ~~If~~ when he sees her again, Zuko will have to apologize.) 

By the time that they reach Chameleon Bay, Prince Zuko seems to be doing a little bit better. He still has circles under his eyes, but the combination of Lieutenant Jee’s hot milk and the soothing, familiar sensation of having his hair braided is enough to make his sleep a bit more peaceful than previously. To the crew’s relief, Prince Zuko has returned to his characteristic communication method of politely phrased yells interspersed with compliments that Prince Zuko tries very hard to disguise as insults. The crew’s efforts with regards to casual touch also seem to be paying off; one night when the three of them are trying to chart the best course around an unexpected rock, Lieutenant Jee sees Prince Zuko absently give his uncle a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he explains that there’s no need for you to worry, Uncle, the _Wani_ isn’t in any real danger. Prince Zuko doesn’t seem to notice, but his uncle’s eyes well up with happy tears. After Prince Zuko leaves, General Iroh explains that his nephew often flinches at touch, and for much of his nephew's childhood, General Iroh resigned himself to not sharing physical affection with his beloved nephew. It's meaningful enough that Prince Zuko now allows others to touch him, but his decision, however, subconscious, to actually _initiate_ touch with the intent of providing emotional support— it's something that General Iroh thought Prince Zuko might never allow to happen.

Upon reaching Chameleon Bay, they disguise the _Wani_ as best they can in the cover Chameleon Bay offers, and then Huojin and Hawker Genji depart. While the two of them trek through the Si Wong desert, the rest of the crew engages Prince Zuko in endless games of Hide and Explode in the woods surrounding Chameleon Bay. Prince Zuko gets even better at navigating wooded areas, and Crewman Teruko starts teaching him the basics of hunting— partially because it’s good practice for hunting down and ambushing opponents, and partially because of how delightful it is to eat fresh meat again. 

(Theoretically, Crewman Teruko could do the hunting herself, but she doesn’t want to put in the sheer amount of _work_ it would take to hunt down all of that fresh meat. Prince Zuko, characteristically, has no such qualms. His years of practice with stealth and combat allows him to pick up hunting quickly, and once he does, they have almost _too_ much fresh meat.)

Assistant Cook Dekku, who grew up on a farm in the Earth Kingdom colonies, also teaches Prince Zuko the basics of identifying edible plants. General Iroh, being General Iroh, teaches Prince Zuko how to identify different plants that can be made into tea. To the surprise of the entire crew and General Iroh, Prince Zuko _actually listens_ — although with his usual glare and more than a few comments about “hot leaf water”. When the prince hears the crew gossiping about it, he resolutely insists that it’s only because there’s nothing else to do, _stop looking at him like that!_

Meanwhile, Huojin and Hawker Genji have managed to reach the beetle-headed merchants’ camp, which is centered around a small desert oasis. The merchants seem friendly enough, offering a complimentary dinner of fresh fig-dates and roasted iguana-tortoise on flatbread. Hawker Genji seems wary (probably put off by the merchants’... _interesting_ ancestral headwear, Huojin reflects as he wryly recalls Hawker Genji’s fear of insects) so Huojin makes an extra effort to behave amiably. 

As fellow traders, the beetle-headed merchants know nearly as many stories as Huojin does. Between sticky bites of fig-dates, the beetle-headed merchants weave yarns about a lost a library hidden somewhere in the depths of the Si Wong Desert, about the mad King Bumi of Omashu, about a blind earthbender who wins every battle she fights. In return, Huojin tells them about how a young commander in need of coal used his wits to defeat the pirates of Seahawk Harbor, about how the seas in the North have a mind of their own, and about the inventors now inhabiting the Northern Air Temple. His throat has gone dry from long hours spent spinning stories when one of the beetle-headed merchants tells Huojin a tale that he has heard before. 

“I will tell you the story of the Dragon Prince,” the merchant says. Huojin can’t help but sit up straight with interest, and Hawker Genji, who had previously been nodding off, is suddenly wide awake once more. 

The merchant tells him of a banished prince, yes, but that’s about where the similarities to the true tale end. _Agni scorch you, Min,_ , Huojin thinks with mingled relief and bitterness as the merchant talks about how the Dragon Prince refused to fight the dragon who was invading the Fire Nation and was thus banished for his cowardice. 

“He’s too inhuman for even the Fire Nation,” the merchant adds with a shudder. “He may look like a person, but in truth he's no more than an animal. I can’t blame the Fire Lord for getting rid of him, but I wish he had just killed the little bastard instead of thrusting him upon the rest of the world.” 

Huojin subtly reaches over and moves Hawker Genji’s hand from where it had been skittering towards his hidden bow and arrow. He raises his eyebrows ever so slightly, conveying both _a long-range weapon against foes a meter away? What were you thinking?_ and also _getting the Prince the coal he needs is more important than defending his honor to a bunch of foreigners._

“He’ll probably find the Avatar soon anyhow, so it won’t be for much longer,” another merchant remarks. 

Huojin must make some sort of noise of interest, because the merchant glances over to him and explains, “the Avatar’s been found. The Fire Nation must have killed off two Avatar reincarnations without realizing it— not that it’s that surprising considering how many they kill— because the newest reincarnation's original element is Earth.”

Huojin and Hawker Genji leave early the next morning carrying sacks full of coal and two rented ostrich horses who are lugging even more coal. More importantly, they have information on this alleged Avatar. As the duo trudges through the endless sand and sun of the Si Wong Desert, Huojin’s mind turns over and over again to what will happen if Prince Zuko actually does find the Avatar. 

As they eat dinner on the third night of their return trip, Huojin spins a short tale about the Dragon Prince. In this tale, the Dragon Prince manages to earn his way home from banishment, only to find that his father still finds his actions, his very _existence_ to be disrespectful. Endlessly steadfast, the Dragon Prince never stands up for himself, even as his body grows covered with the scales his father’s flame reveals. 

Hawker Genji stares into the fire for a long moment, then shakes his head. “The Dragon Prince’s people are loyal to him.” He makes eye contact with Huojin, his amber eyes as keen as those of the eagle hawks he tends to. “And loyal people do not lie.” 

Neither says much more that night, nor during the long hours of travel the following day. It’s that next night, as Huojin coaxes a small fire into being, that Hawker Genji tells a tale of his own, a pointed parable about what punishments the spirits see fit for those who lie to those they ought to be loyal to. 

Huojin spends several days thinking. He thinks about what may happen to the prince if he does manage to return. He thinks about the kind of betrayal it would be to lie to the prince. He wonders if Hawker Genji is motivated by loyalty to the prince, as he says, or rather by loyalty to the Fire Lord. On the _Wani_ , they act as though loyalty to the prince and the Fire Lord are the same thing, but that's the same kind of thinking that says loyalty to the military and loyalty to the people are the same thing. The same kind of thinking that led to Prince Zuko being challenged for an Agni Kai for disrespect against the leader of his nation, when it was the Fire Lord who was behaving disrespectfully by devaluing the lives of those he has a duty to. 

Huojin also thinks about how to phrase all of his thoughts, how to veil them so that an unassuming listener would miss the secondary conversation hidden behind nuances and implications. But he doesn't know how to convey something as big as this through subtle methods without losing the message, and there's no one in the desert to hear, anyway. He will speak plainly. 

"I know you think otherwise, but I am loyal to Prince Zuko,” he says bluntly. Hawker Genji stumbles over a dune, and Huojin can’t blame him; they’d been walking in silence for hours before Huojin abruptly spoke. 

“I suppose…” Huojin takes a deep breath, swallowing hard. He does not enjoy admitting he is wrong, but there is a greater issue than that. Even after years at sea, slipping between the safe havens of neutral ports and the lax restrictions of the colonies, the thought of the punishments the Fire Nation holds against treason cramp his lungs uncomfortably. “I suppose that you are right, for if the Dragon Prince is to be our leader, we must trust his judgment.” 

There is a long moment of silence, during which the possible implications of the statement hang heavy in the air. It may be interpreted as Huojin saying that as he is the Crown Prince, they should trust and respect Prince Zuko. However, everyone in Fire Nation has realized by now that considering that there’s no way a banished prince can be crowned Fire Lord, and that the Fire Lord assigned his son an impossible task as the only possible way to return home, the title is effectively meaningless for Prince Zuko. Additionally, the use of the Prince’s nickname— the nickname characterized by Prince Zuko’s act of rebellion against his father, and spread by commoners rallying in support of that same rebellion— implies something far more dangerous than simple loyalty to the authority of the royal family.

If the reason Hawker Genji has been insisting on telling Prince Zuko is that he is ultimately loyal to the Fire Lord and wishes for his commander to obey the Fire Lord's every whim, then Huojin has made a fatal mistake. 

Hawker Genji turns and looks at him. A smile is spreading across his face, a smile that is almost as sharp as the knife Engineer Hanako gave Prince Zuko for his fourteenth birthday. “I wholeheartedly agree,” he says, and Huojin knows that Hawker Genji is remarking as much on the unspoken declaration of true loyalties as he is speaking on the plan to tell the truth to Prince Zuko. 

The rest of the trip back is spent in the companionable silence of two conspirators secure in mutual trust in the others' affiliations. The only verbal exchange they have is when Hawker Genji wryly remarks, "We should see if we can find someone on the _Wani_ to give him lessons in governance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's eleven thirty and I'm staying up editing so I can get this out before the technical end of 8/10/2020 in my time zone. Why, you ask? because 8/11/2020 has Bad Vibes and I Refuse to post Chapter Nine on that day. *blows raspberry at 8/11/2020*
> 
> This chapter and chapter ten were originally going to be one chapter, but it would have been a really clunky/plot-heavy chapter, so I decided to split it. I swear we will reach canon soon. Just in a few more chapters, I promise! 
> 
> Huojin, @Hawker Genji: what if... we were loyal to Prince Zuko instead of the Fire Lord... aha ha just kidding... unless?
> 
> It just occurred to me while editing this that the dynamic duo are now both Traders... and Traitors. lmao I'm hilarious
> 
> Huojin Knew that he shouldn't have told Min that story about Prince Zuko. This is just karma. At least the merchants didn't try to tell him a story about Angy the Sun Spirit or Lady Sparky Flower the Anthromorphic Lily. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Min, across the world: I know what I should rename that flower lady!
> 
> it occurs to me that Min is basically meta on fanfiction authors and the concept of death of the author. discuss.


	10. the Sentinel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko, and the crew of the _Wani_ , follow the rumors of the Avatar along the peninsula.
> 
> cw: implied/reference self harm, implied/referenced victim blaming

As Zuko listens to Huojin speak, he can feel hope rising in him with the same inevitability as Agni cresting the horizon to herald a new day. How many times now has he hoped and been rebuffed? How many more before he learns his lesson? If he had any sense at all, he would squash this hope with the same cool dismissal that Azula chars the insects she finds in the gardens. 

It’s difficult to be sensible when with each sentence, Huojin paints a picture of a world that is both beautiful and tantalizingly plausible. According to Huojin, the Water Avatar lived and died without notice— likely without even realizing the truth of what they were— and now the Avatar bears the form of a young, inexperienced bender. Apparently, this Avatar can only bend Earth and Fire, and has been wandering the Earth Kingdom, fruitlessly searching for an instructor to teach them airbending. Last that the Beetle-Headed Merchants knew, the Avatar was heading North, perhaps following the rumors of residents in the Northern Air Temple.

For the first time in a long time, Zuko genuinely thinks he might be able to make it home. 

_Home_. The tile flooring of the palace halls, always pleasantly cool no matter the heat. The dusty silence of the library, the winding shelving holding endless sweet-smelling scrolls. The serenity of the turtleduck pond, the gleam of the water like an impeccably polished mirror. 

(Has Azula killed all of the turtleducks yet? Zuko runs his finger over the turtleduck feather in his pocket. The nib is choked with blood, and the barbs are dirtied from how often he absentmindedly touches it.) 

Zuko recalls how, after Azula summoned her first blue flames, she accepted his congratulations with what Zuko thought might be just a hint of genuine satisfaction. He remembers the two of them playing Pai Sho because Uncle had told them to, Zuko laughing when Azula cheated because it was nice to know Azula hated Pai Sho as much as he did, that they had one thing in common at least. Zuko thinks of Azula, who he is supposed to protect; Azula, who might be scared. 

Zuko thinks of Father, too. He thinks of Father’s hand, heavy and warm on his shoulder as they watched the waves lap against the shore of Ember Island. He thinks of Father, pulling him up, up, _up_ through the water, up towards light and air. He thinks of _his father reaching out to cup his face with one gentle hand, and Zuko smiling, leaning into the loving touch—_

“Set a course to follow the coastline north,” Zuko orders abruptly, then stands and exits the room with a quick, shallow bow. 

_"You’re too late, Prince Zuko,” his father says, and the world blazes around him._

Zuko’s hands want to shake, but he forces them to hold steady around his brush as he pens a letter to his father. The calligraphy is not as crisp as Azula’s, but he hopes the words he writes— that Zuko has a lead on the Avatar, that he simply needs a little bit more time before he can fulfill his father’s task— make up for it. 

When the letter is finished, Zuko rolls it carefully and ties it with a red silk ribbon to indicate that it is royal correspondence. Envelopes are used rarely, as they are more difficult for eagle-hawks to carry; Azula had only used one because it was necessary to deliver the turtleduck feather. Just like how using a shirshu-raven was necessary, as it is the only reliable way to quickly reach someone on the move. 

If the contents of Azula’s letter hadn’t been explicitly designed to hurt him, he might have almost said the amount of effort she put into her little ‘birthday present’ indicated that she cared. But this is Azula, so Zuko just snorts a bitter laugh and figures that she misses being able to torment him at her leisure.

Hawker Genji is acting a bit strangely, Zuko notes as he watches the man send the eagle-hawk off. It’s subtle enough that Zuko doesn’t think anyone else would notice, but Zuko can feel the man’s eyes lingering on him, and there’s something odd in his unreadable expression. Zuko executes another shallow bow and leaves. 

Having real hope that he might be able to return home changes things for Zuko. He finds himself sleeping more deeply and having fewer nightmares, and he ends up cutting less, figuring that his father is less angry with him now that he’s on the way to redeeming himself. The sun seems to shine a bit brighter, Cook’s meals seem a little bit tastier, and the night watches seem just a bit shorter. 

The only thing that isn’t improved is the lack of entertainment on the _Wani_. Zuko still spars, trains his katas, and practices his stealth exercises, but it seems that Zuko’s exhausted all of the interesting things the crew has to teach him. 

Technically, Zuko still has options, but none of them are _good_ ones. Lieutenant Jee offers to teach him to play the pipa (for the last time, _no thank you_ ), Hawker Genji idly jokes about teaching Zuko how to use a bow if he promises to only shoot arrows with dulled heads, and Helmsman Kyo reluctantly says he’d be willing to try to teach Zuko how to conceal his emotions for the fifth time. 

In the end, it’s Huojin who suggests Zuko’s newest hobby; researching proper governance. As soon as Huojin suggests it, Zuko can’t help but chastise himself for not thinking about it earlier. Of course Zuko should be researching effective governance! He should have done that long before he learned to hunt or to _make hot leaf juice_ — he has a duty to his people, after all! Especially seeing as he actually has a chance of catching the Avatar now, and so his title of Crown Prince may someday carry real meaning again. 

In truth, there’s not a lot of good resources with which to learn the intricacies of proper governance. Whenever Huojin and Hawker Genji slip into local Earth Kingdom towns to collect intelligence on the Avatar’s most recent whereabouts, Zuko has them look around for scrolls on governance, but they rarely find anything relevant. Lieutenant Jee can teach him a bit about leadership from his years as a Lieutenant, and obviously, Uncle has a lot of important lessons for Zuko, but the pickings are still scarce enough that, against his better judgment, Zuko finds himself digging that old air nomad scroll back out.

Apparently, each Air Temple had a Council of Elders who would discuss relevant decisions as a group. When it came time to make decisions for all of the air nomads, all four Councils of Elders would send representatives to meet together. It’s hard for Zuko to tell exactly how the members of the Councils of Elders were chosen, but it seems like Council members were expected to be airbending masters, wise leaders, and invested members of the community.

Zuko can understand the desire for leaders to be powerful benders (he’s heard criticism from Father about his bending to be more than aware how important it is) and obviously wisdom is important in a ruler, but it’s strange to think about a ruler as an invested community member. Father and Fire Lord Azulon always ruled from a distance, barely interacting with the commoners except when displaying their status and power.

Zuko thinks that he understands, though. A ruler’s duty is to his people, and the more he knows his people, the better he can do his duty. As such, Zuko starts making more of an effort to learn details about his crew— he already knows all of their names and general personalities, of course, but he’d been too distracted by the all-consuming need to capture the avatar to pay as much attention to the ups and downs of their everyday lives as he should have. Zuko learns that Hawker Genji is afraid of insects and thus arranges that he no longer be expected to take his turn cleaning the spider-infested cargo hold, memorizes the birthdays of everyone on his crew, and generally goes out of his way to make sure that everyone on the _Wani_ is taken care of as best he can arrange. 

Maybe that’s why when Zuko’s fifteenth birthday rolls around, he seems to have even more gifts than the previous year. There are quite a few theatre scrolls, a confusingly extensive amount of dragon-themed paraphernalia, and two more knives from Engineer Hanako. (Does she not realize that Zuko _already has_ two knives, and the capacity to create as many extra knives as he likes from scrap metal? And no, pointing that out does not mean he rejects the gift, _give them back Engineer Hanako._ )

Zuko also gets a present from Azula— a painting of their mother, with a note to instructing him to “return home before the same thing happens to you”. Zuko tries not to think about that particular birthday present too much.

Probably the best birthday present is the way that the _Wani_ is slowly but surely gaining ground on the Avatar. A few weeks after Zuko’s fifteenth birthday, Huojin and Hawker Genji miss the avatar by a _single day_.

The next time that the two of them enter a coastal town that the Avatar had recently traversed through, it’s to find that a Fire Nation ship is already inhabiting it. Apparently, Zhao (whose name Zuko vaguely recognizes as belonging to a particularly obnoxious captain in possession of a truly ugly pair of sideburns) has set his mind on capturing the Avatar, even though he undoubtedly has _an actual military assignment he should be carrying out_ and, _unlike Zuko his ability to go home doesn’t ride on this_. In a feat of sheer brilliance, he’s decided to carry this out by _taking over the coastal village_ the Avatar just left, completely destroying all of the effort Zuko and his crew put into being subtle and causing the Avatar to go to ground like a startled badgermole. 

Zuko glares at Huojin and Hawker Genji. “ _Why_ are you two still so cheerful?” he asks sharply. Maybe, a tiny, treacherous voice within him asks, they were the ones to alert Zhao. Zhao came from up North, as though he’d already known exactly where the Avatar would be. The only people who Zuko has told the Avatar’s exact location to are his father (in his most recent letter, Zuko had let his father know that know he’d missed the Avatar by a mere _day_ and thus would likely be able to return home soon), and the crew of the _Wani_.

Zuko bites his tongue in reproach. It’s dishonorable to question the loyalty of his crew. Perhaps Zhao merely got lucky or found some other clue that allowed him to predict the Avatar’s course. 

Huojin and Hawker Genji exchange a smug look, and then Huojin says, “Well, we know something that Zhao doesn’t. One of Zhao’s crew members learned that the Avatar set off on a fishing boat towards the peninsula, and decided to tell us instead of his captain.” 

Zuko frowns. “How do you know that this information is legitimate? This could be a misdirection that Zhao arranged,” he points out. 

Huojin thinks of how the informant had opened the conversation by asking after the forty-first division, then if they had heard of any new tales of the Dragon Prince. He thinks about the determined set to the informant’s face, far too serious for the innocent, definitely-not-coded-treason folk tale that he was telling them. He thinks about how, at the end of the conversation, the informant, seeming to sense his unspoken question, answered that “the Dragon Prince protects the people, and so the people protect the Dragon Prince.” 

“I think that it’s legitimate,” Huojin says. “I’ve dealt with a number of liars in my time as a merchant, and this man displayed no tell that I could recognize.” 

Zuko nods. He’ll have to trust the intuition of his crew. “In that case,” he turns to Lieutenant Jee, “we need to plot a course to the peninsula.” 

Zuko doesn’t send his father a letter containing his new plan. Not that he thinks that his father was to send Zhao, ~~even though that makes a lot of sense, and hadn’t Lieutenant Jee told him that his father only meant the quest to capture the Avatar as a parting taunt?~~ but simply because it could be intercepted by Zhao.

Meanwhile, Huojin considers what Prince Zuko said about trustworthiness. Huojin isn’t sure precisely how far knowledge of what the usual euphemisms really mean has spread, but considering it reached Huojin on a merchant ship bouncing between neutral ports and the colonies, Huojin wouldn’t be surprised if even the nobility have an inkling of the truth. 

The usual euphemisms are all well and good for just expressing general support for Prince Zuko, but when it comes to confirming loyalty to Prince Zuko over the Fire Lord and other Fire Nation leaders…. it would be helpful if they had some other way to indicate their loyalties, something a bit more exclusive. Maybe a hand signal or code phrase?

Not that Huojin even knows if there’s anyone ready to champion the Dragon Prince, aside from him, Hawker Genji, and the informant who turned on Zhao. But he knows that back on his merchant ship, the crew _wouldn’t stop talking about Prince Zuko_ , no matter what Captain Ryoka threatened. He knows that everyone on the _Wani_ respects and likes the prince; it’s impossible not to, after getting to know him. He remembers how they reacted after Huojin told them the tale of the Dragon Prince, how they had all wordlessly agreed to protect him. Maybe, just maybe, that protection extends even if the person they’re protecting against is the Fire Lord himself.

As the _Wani_ makes it way across the bay, Huojin chooses the tales that he tells during break time and the long night watches carefully. He makes up a parable about how important it is that leaders value their people, some silly little tale about the chief of a small tribe in the Northern Water Tribe. Definitely not anything to do with the Fire Lord or the forty-first division. He tells a story about the origins of Agni Kai, about how Agni himself chooses whose flames will spread across yielding flesh until there is no more than charred bones, and whose will sputter out with nothing more than a lone burn. Finally, he tells a story about a tribe of lizard-serpents, whose leader was so gluttonous he wanted to eat the eggs of his own people. His son, being noble where his father was gluttonous, protected the eggs, and in return, his people protected him from his father.

“He was loyal to his people, and so his people were loyal to him,” Huojin says. 

The crew looks... uncomfortable, but none of them speak out against him. No one challenges him to an Agni Kai, and no one threatens to turn him in for implying such clearly treasonous things. All in all, it could have gone a lot worse. Huojin finishes his cup of sake and heads to bed, letting the rest of the crew linger in silence as they uneasily consider what he suggested. 

In the morning, no one speaks of it. Huojin doesn’t mind. He’s a sailor, not a gardener, but even he knows that buried seeds need time to grow beneath the soil before they can reveal themselves.

A few weeks later, they arrive at the peninsula. The _Wani_ lingers among the folds of the coastline, hiding behind steep cliffs and rugged terrain, while Huojin and Hawker Genji slip through the various coastal villages, looking for the Avatar.

Huojin and Hawker Genji are honestly enjoying themselves. It’s nice getting to spend time on land after so long at sea, and being alone means the two of them can talk treason all that they want. There’s a giddy sort of pleasure of being able to talk openly(ish, they’re still not _fools_ ) about how Prince Zuko will clearly be so much better of a Fire Lord than his father ever had hope to be. 

Meanwhile, the crew of the _Wani_ , especially Zuko, are going as stir crazy as a pack of caged cat-foxes. There’s nothing new to do except for rock climbing and fishing, and as enjoyable as rock climbing is, even that gets old after a while. (Fishing, meanwhile, was never fun in the first place, whatever Uncle Iroh will say about its “meditative properties”.) By the time Hawker Genji sends them an eagle-hawk with a lead, Zuko is _literally_ climbing the walls with sheer pent-up energy.

Apparently, a village on the very southern point of the peninsula has been having spirit problems, and they’ve recently offered a small reward to anyone who can aid them. Seeing as the Avatar is the bridge between the spirit world and the physical realm, it makes sense that this would attract their notice. The only problem is that both Hawker Genji and Huojin are injured from an unfortunate incident during which one of the charming coastal villages they were investigating realized they were Fire Nation. They’re in no fit state to infiltrate yet another coastal village; in fact, they had been heading back towards the _Wani_ to benefit from Medic Ichika's loving care when they heard this bit of news from a fellow traveler. 

Considering how stir-crazy the prince is, it’s no surprise that he insists on being the one to infiltrate the town, and considering how stubborn he is, none of them are exactly shocked that he won’t listen to any of General Iroh and Lieutenant Jee’s extremely reasonable issues with this plan. That doesn’t mean any of the crew likes it, though; Engineer Hanako gives him yet another knife “just in case”, Satomi politely suggests that if he gets attacked he shouldn’t hesitate to knee his opponents in the privates, honor be damned, and Helmsman Kyo long-sufferingly reminds him to try not to blink so much when he lies. 

Zuko doesn’t know why all of them are so worried. He has an impeccable plan— he’ll simply pretend to be someone trying to solve the village’s spirit problem! That will explain why he’s there, and hopefully, they’ll be so happy that someone is trying to help him that no one will question his origins too closely. 

The village is small— Uncle would probably say _quaint_. To Zuko’s eyes, it’s little more than a clump of ramshackle buildings, with the only at all respectable-looking one being the shrine at the village’s center. Boats crowd the shoreline like komodo-rhinos at the watering hole, and the smell of fish hangs heavily in the air. 

Almost immediately after entering the village, Zuko is greeted by a middle-aged woman who appears to be trying to untangle a particularly badly knotted net. Her eyes linger on Zuko’s scar (Zuko suddenly, desperately wishes that he’d thought to bandage it), and something unreadable passes over her face, but after a moment she looks away, asking, “you’re here to help with the spirit problem, aren’t you?” 

Zuko nods, making the woman smile. “In that case, you have my most sincere welcome.” She bows. “I am Hyun Jae.”

Zuko bows deeply back. “I am Zu—Lee.”

“It is good to meet you, Zu-Lee.” Zuko winces at his new name, then tries to cover it up by asking for more information about the village’s spirit issues. 

Hyun Jae sighs, running a hand through her gray-laced hair. “There’s… there’s a succession problem in our village. Usually, the oldest son of the village head would become the new leader, but…” she twists her lips. “The village head had twins, and no one is sure which one came out first. Ever since their father died, the village has been split over who should become the next leader… it’s gotten so bad that some of the villagers are saying if they don’t get their preferred twin into power, they’ll leave to start a new village. Our patron spirit has been angry, too— every time we try to go fishing, we don’t catch so much as a single tadpole-minnow, and our nets get horribly tangled. But no one knows on whose behalf he’s angry.” 

“I see,” Zuko says. “Do you think that you could show me to the village shrine?” Guru Pathik told him that a spirit’s shrine was the best place to speak to them, so it makes sense that if Zuko wanted to solve this village’s spirit issue, that would be where he would go. It’s also considered a bit impolite to enter the shrine with multiple people, so it will likely grant Zuko some privacy. 

The shrine is small, only a single room. As Hyun Jae leaves, Zuko kneels on the tatami mat. _I’m sorry that I am deceiving your people_ he thinks, _but rest assured that when the Avatar arrives, they’ll be able to convey your message for you. I will wait until they have helped your village before capturing them._

Zuko is broken out of his meditation by the sound of a knock on the shrine’s door. He rises from his seiza to find that Hyun Jae is standing outside. Over her shoulder, the sky is streaked with the many colors of the sunset; he’s lost track of time. 

“Would you like to eat an evening meal with me?” She asks. 

Guilt twists in Zuko’s belly at the thought of imposing on these people’s hospitality any further, but he knows that it would be suspicious to refuse, so he nods. As he follows Hyun Jae to her home, he notices that she keeps on glancing at him hopefully, like she wants to know if he’s made any progress but is too polite to ask. 

“It may help if you tell me more about your village’s patron spirit,” Zuko finally suggests.

“We call him the Sentinel. Back when he was human, he was a guard in Ba Sing Se. The ancestors of this village were a group of Lower Ring residents who the Dai Li wrongly believed were traitors. The Sentinel helped them escape, and in return, they made him the village head.”

“...ah,” Zuko replies. He grasps fruitlessly around for a way to connect that to the situation. “...is one of the twins a big supporter of Ba Sing Se, or something? How do their plans for the village differ?” 

Hyun Jae grimaces. “Honestly, their plans both seem reasonable to me. The only real difference is that they have different ideas about how to fish. Nothing major, just that Joonyo favors the traditional fishing methods while Naymi thinks that we should be trying out the new-fangled methods they’re using in some of the other villages.” She sighs. “Either way would be better than what we have right now, considering that it’s getting—” she gestures to a tangled net— “ _no fish_.”

Zuko opens his mouth to say that he’s sure the Avatar will arrive soon to solve the issue, then realizes how suspicious that would sound. Instead, he lamely mumbles, “I’ll do my best to help your village go back to proper fishing soon.” The small, crooked, yet undeniably hopeful smile that Hyun Jae directs towards him makes him feel like the most awful person to walk the earth. 

That feeling only grows the longer Zuko stays there. The village children look up at him hopefully, the men of the village give him friendly claps on the shoulder as he passes each morning on his way to the shrine, and even the stray cat-foxes seem to be oddly affectionate with him. When the Avatar finally arrives, his first thought isn’t _I can finally go home now_ it’s _Agni above, I can stop feeling so guilty_.

His second thought is that the Avatar is not at all what he expected. The Avatar is a young woman, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, with wild brown curls and a manner closer to that of a street entertainer on one of the festival days than of the venerated bridge between the physical and spirit worlds. 

The Avatar laughs as she ruffles one of the village childrens’ hair. “I hear you wanted me to visit,” she says to Hyun Jae. “Did you need help with Earthbending?” she lifts a piece of dirt with a confident wave of her hand. “Or maybe with firebending?” she flicks her wrist, and sparks dance across her palm.

Zuko frowns. Any firebender of her age, let alone the _literal Avatar_ should be able to produce more than sparks by now. And he’s never seen someone _flick their wrist_ to summon up their inner flames before. Whoever her teacher is, they're clearly sorely lacking.

“Actually, we needed help with a spirit problem,” Hyun Jae says.

Helmsman Kyo's coaching allows Zuko to notice the telling stiffness in the Avatar’s shoulders even as she smiles easily. “Well, I can’t promise that I’ll solve it, but I’ll give it my best try!” She taps her lips thoughtfully. “It would probably be easier on a full stomach, though,” she hints.

Throughout dinner, Zuko watches the Avatar warily, trying as hard as he can not to outright glare.

The Avatar seems to take forever eating. Like she’s stalling, Zuko thinks. When she shows off her firebending to the village children clustered around her, he notices that the sparks seem to come from somewhere within her sleeves, and not her hands.

When she finally leaves to go visit the shrine, Zuko slips in after her. 

“You’re not the Avatar at all, are you,” he says. He’s unsurprised to see that she’s making no pretense of trying to commune with the Sentinel; she’s pulled a theatre scroll from some hidden pocket and has settled down to read. At least _he_ meditated. And he doesn’t have the _entire village thinking he’s the Avatar!_

“No, I’m not,” the not-Avatar agrees placidly. She shakes something out of her sleeves and then holds it up to the light. A pair of small, green stones.

“...spark rocks.” 

“Yes.” She returns them to their hiding place in the folds of her sleeves. “Turns out earthbenders can bend them, too. It doesn’t produce more than sparks, but no one likes seeing too much fire, anyway.”

Zuko’s thoughts must be showing on his face because she laughs and says, “It’s not like you’re any better, _Prince Zuko_.” She stands, brushing herself off like the carefully maintained tatami mats are somehow dirty. “How about this— you don’t tell anyone I’m a fraud, and _I_ don’t tell anyone that you’re actually the Crown Prince of an enemy nation, yes?” 

The door slams behind her as she leaves. For a long minute, Zuko just stares down at the tatami mat, guilt churning in his stomach because _she’s right_. Zuko’s no better than her— he’s lying to and manipulating the villagers just like she is. He’s never actually tried to speak to the Sentinel before, even though he promises Hyun Jae that he would.

Zuko bows deeply once, then a second time. Then he claps once, then twice, and bows once more, this time keeping his face tilted towards the ground. Guru Pathik said that spirits find mortals’ tendency to stare most disrespectful and although he really doubts the Sentinel will appear to him (if the Sentinel didn't appear to his own villagers, there's no way he'll appear to the banished prince of an enemy nation) it’s still better safe than sorry. 

....Zuko can see a green blob in his peripheral vision that definitely wasn’t there before.

“Greetings, venerated spirit. Your village wishes to know which of your line should the next village leader.” 

The spirit doesn’t say anything. That doesn’t worry Zuko too much; Guru Pathik said that a lot of spirits can’t, or don’t, speak. The spirit doesn’t disappear either, which Zuko thinks means that there’s still something Zuko should be getting from this interaction.

Zuko screws his eyes shut, trying to think about what he knows of this spirit. He’s called the Sentinel, and he formed the village when he helped a lot of political refugees escape from Ba Sing Se. The two possible leaders have been arguing about fishing methods, and he’s been making it so neither of those methods yields fish.

Zuko’s eyes snap open. “You don’t care who becomes leader,” he breathes. “You’re just angry because they’re acting like the leaders of Ba Sing Se did— ostracizing their people for political reasons. You want your people to work together, instead of fighting.”

"All you want..." he swallows, his throat suddenly unexpectedly tight, "All that you want is to protect your people." _Just like me_.

The spirit doesn’t say anything, but Zuko can _feel_ his approval, resounding deep in the marrows of his bones. A calloused, cool hand lifts his chin, and Zuko finds himself looking into the face of a young soldier, smooth-skinned and unmarred except for a scar stretching across his left cheekbone. 

The Sentinel draws one dual dao from his back, and for a moment, Zuko thinks he’s about to die, run through by a vengeful spirit. But then the Sentinel slices his own finger, and presses it, tacky with blood, to Zuko’s forehead. The contact is shocking, warm, and almost-but-not-quite human, and then it fades away, leaving an empty room and the smell of young bamboo sprouts.

Zuko touches his tingling forehead. No matter where his questing fingers wander, he can’t find any crusted blood. What was that about, anyway?

Zuko shrugs it off. It’s probably nothing anyway. The important thing is to inform Hyun Jae and the villagers of what he’s learned. Zuko exits the shrine, the memory of the Sentinel’s bloody finger already slipping from his thoughts like nothing more than a stray daydream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnhhh. I wrote up end notes and then they got deleted :((
> 
> anyway. it's another episode of Lucy updating rlly late because she thinks that one day has better Vibes than another day. 15 is my lucky number okay.
> 
> ngl this chapter was hard for me to write. Could be because it's so hot here that even with air conditioning my brain is melting out my ears. It could also be because I'm feeling guilty about the whole Avatar reveal. In my defense, I didn't think you guys would buy it! 
> 
> Next chapter... drum roll please! CANON!
> 
> I don't have any memes for you guys (as I said earlier my brain has melted) but I did [draw the Sentinel](https://cassiopeia721.tumblr.com/post/626585341232562176).
> 
> edit: I forgot to mention, my depiction of spirits in this fic is heavily based off of Shinto beliefs regarding kami.


	11. the Avatar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko meets the Avatar. 
> 
> cw: self harm, panic attack/flashback (not really but there's definitely panic, and triggering of associations/feelings from past trauma)

Earlier, Zuko had wondered how many more times he would have to learn his lesson about the dangers of hope before it would stick. Now, as he works shoulder-to-shoulder with his crew to grind the Southern Air Temple’s skeletons to dust, he thinks he’s reached that point. His eyes are burning, and it’s not just from how dry the thin air is. 

Lieutenant Jee was right, wasn’t he? Zuko will never capture the Avatar, will never complete his mission, will never return home. Zuko isn’t strong enough, or smart enough, or— or simply _enough_. Not enough to regain his honor, not enough to come home, not enough for his father ~~to love him~~ to be proud of him.

_Never give up without a fight_ , Zuko thinks. With his eye, he traces the path of the dust as the wind lifts and spreads it. There can be honor in even death and ruin; that is why how the air nomads’ skeletons are disposed of matters. 

So his task is impossible; so he will never again be Crown Prince in more than name. But let no one say he did not _try_. Let no one say that he was abandoned his quest, abandoned his duties, abandoned his people. Let no one say that he gave up without a fight. 

Zuko turns away from the cliff’s edge. “Please chart a course to the Southern Water Tribe,” he says.

Lieutenant Jee nods, breathing out an imperceptible sigh of relief. Something in Prince Zuko’s posture, in the way his gaze had lingered at the yawning void just a few steps from his feet, had frozen the breath in his lungs. 

The Southern Pole is just as cold as the Northern Pole was— worse, even, considering that they no longer can use the furs from Seahawk Harbor to shield themselves from the gnawing cold and the piercing winds. Zuko uses his breath of fire so much that every exhale, no matter how careful, brings a small bonfire’s worth of sparks along with it. The only mercy is that this time around, there’s no need to ration out their coal. 

This time, the _Wani_ doesn’t get caught in any eddies. Zuko keeps expecting them to wake up one morning to find themselves turned aside in the night, and every time they aren’t, his sense of vague unease grows. Is this some sort of trap? Are they wildly off course, lost in the bleak sheets of ice and waves of frigid water that makes up the Southern Pole? He’s not sure what exactly is going on, but he knows he doesn’t like it. 

It’s this sense of unease that leads to him spending at least a few nights each week hiding out on the deck during the nights, peering behind floes in search of waterbenders in sleek boats. After all, it’s not so unreasonable that maybe the waterbenders of the Southern Tribe are simply more subtle than those of the Northern Tribe. That makes far more sense and leaves him feeling far more comfortable than the idea that for some reason the Southern Water Tribe are simply _letting_ him sail right on into their territory. 

It’s on one of these nights, lingering in the shadows on the _Wani_ ’s deck, that Zuko spots the strange fountain of light bursting out into the sky. It looks a bit like the celestial lights, but Zuko can _feel_ it in his chi, in his inner fire, and, oddly enough, in a small patch of skin on his forehead. 

Honestly, Zuko doesn’t want to investigate the light. Zuko doesn’t like this strange land with its bitter, unceasing cold and its disquieting lack of visible defenses. He would rather be back at Seahawk Harbor with Master Hyun-Ki, or at the Eastern Air Temple with Guru Pathik, or even on the peninsula with Hyun Jae. Most of all, however, Zuko wishes he could be home.

But Zuko has a duty to do. A duty that means that he cannot go home. A duty that means he cannot simply flit around the world like a lazy child on a pleasure cruise, going where it pleases him. A duty that he will be neglecting if he doesn’t follow every possible lead. 

Zuko sighs and goes to go wake up Lieutenant Jee. 

Only a few hours later, they reach a Water Tribe village. The village itself is _tiny_ — it looks about the size of a single small neighborhood back in the capital. The only defense that it has is a wall of packed snow ringing the dozen or so igloos and tents that make up the village, and the population seems to mostly be children. Has the Southern Water Tribe split their forces, leaving a small group to protect their vulnerable while having the others circle around to flank the _Wani_? Or is the village simply _that small_? 

Bile burns the back of Zuko’s throat, and he swallows hard. He’d known that the Fire Nation was raiding the Southern Water Tribe, but he had never thought the raids were severe enough that their villages would hold little more than a dozen families. Then again, he had never have thought that the Fire Nation would kill an entire race of pacifists and leave their charred bones to rot, and look how that turned out.

Zuko shakes his head. It’s not his place to question such things, he admonishes himself.

Satomi and Lieutenant Jee fall into step with him on either side, and Zuko feels a little better. Still, as the walkway lowers, Zuko runs his thumb over the nib of his turtleduck feather— not hard enough to draw blood but enough to feel a grounding throb of pain. He can’t afford to falter in his convictions, not when his enemies will strike as soon as they see the slightest hint of weakness.

The walkway strikes the icy ground with a scrape, and the frigid air hits him like a physical force. It’s almost as cold as the looks on the Water Tribe villagers’ faces. The eyes of the adults are like chips of ice, and the expressions that the children wear remind him painfully of the Mechanist’s son. _I’m not complimenting this ashmaker! I wish he didn’t exist, because then maybe my mom would still be alive!_

Zuko steps forward, indicating with a flick of his wrist that Satomi and Lieutenant Jee should keep a half-step behind him. If any of the Water Tribe villagers attack before he can signal the ceasefire, he wants to be the one who takes the brunt of their wrath, not his crew. 

With cold-stiffened fingers, he fumbles for the white flag in his pocket. He’s just curled his hand around the flag pole when a Water Tribe warrior charges him. White, grey, and black paint covers his face, and he’s carrying an unfamiliar weapon with cruel serrations along the blade like jagged teeth. Reacting on instinct honed by a thousand of the crew’s surprise attacks, Zuko disarms the warrior with an outside crescent kick, then throws him off the walkway with another crescent kick, this one the inside version.

Behind him, Satomi’s hand has fallen to her sword, and Lieutenant Jee’s armor creaks warningly as he settles into a balanced fighting stance. The Water Tribe warrior manages to roll as he hits the ground and comes to a stop kneeling on the ice a few meters from the _Wani_. His hand momentarily cups his jaw where Zuko kicked him, and then it comes to rest on some sort of weapon he’s carrying on his back. 

Zuko leans to the side, letting the triangular weapon sail past him. “Would you please _stop_?” He grits out. Zuko has no interest in fighting a Water Tribe warrior, especially when he still half-suspects that this is some sort of trap. 

“What,” the warrior snarls, “I should just _let you burn my village to the ground_?” 

Zuko frowns. “What are you—” Something hits him, hard, on his blind side. Pain ricochets through the ruined remains of the left side of his face like the ringing echoes of a struck gong. Sheer terror stabs through Zuko’s chest as though a spike of ice has impaled him, and he sways to the side, only stopped from falling over by Lieutenant Jee’s firm hand on his arm. Just beyond the pain, he can dimly sense something hot and wet oozing from the pitted, leathery skin of his left cheek.

“How _dare you_ ,” Satomi hisses, turning eyes like two lit coals to the warrior. Zuko lets his own eyes slip halfway shut, focusing on breathing through the waves of pain as best he can. 

The Water Tribe warrior charges up the walkway, the bone spear in his hands gleaming pale as death in the stark sunlight of the Southern pole. Zuko can’t help but flinch backward, instinct telling him that the Water Tribe warrior is going to target his weak spot like he just did, going to hit his scar again, going to _burn half his face off_ —

Lieutenant Jee snaps the spear with a few smooth strikes, then lifts the warrior by his collar like he’s a feral cat-fox. The warrior struggles, kicking out with his legs, but Lieutenant Jee only extends his arm further, so that he’s out of kicking range. 

Zuko takes a deep breath that is shakier than he would like and moves so that he’s in front of the Water Tribe warrior. “Look,” he says. “I just want the Avatar. There’s no need for us to fight.” 

“ _No need for us to—_ ” the warrior scoffs. Now that they’re closer, Zuko can see the baby fat still clinging to the warrior’s face, the way that he hasn’t quite finished growing. How old is this “warrior”? Fourteen? “Drown in the depths, ashmaker.” 

Zuko really wishes that angry children would stop calling him ashmaker and trying to fight him. It uncomfortably reminds him of Azula, even though she calls him Zuzu and not ashmaker. 

The boy-warrior spits, a globule of saliva hitting Zuko’s boot. Zuko can’t help the way his lips twist in distaste, and, judging by the low creak of Lieutenant Jee’s armor as he gives the Water Tribe warrior a little shake, he’s not the only one disgusted at the warrior’s lack of manners. 

“If I go with you, you promise you won’t attack the village?” A young voice pipes up.

Zuko turns. There’s a bald, tattooed child in what looks like air nomad robes peeking out of behind an igloo. For a long moment, Zuko wonders if the warrior’s odd returning weapon had hit him a little bit too hard. 

“Th—there’s no way that you’re the Avatar.” His voice is even raspier than normal. The Avatar can’t be a _child_. 

“Way!” The child chirps. He sounds more like a turtleduck cheeping to affirm that yes, they would like some bread than the newest reincarnation of the Avatar telling the enemy their identity. 

“Do you have any proof?” Zuko asks, crossing his arms skeptically. The kid seems a bit young to be a scammer, and this tiny village in the middle of nowhere doesn’t exactly seem like the best pickings for a conman, but with the not-Avatar incident fresh in his mind, it’s the only conclusion he can come to. 

“No, he doesn’t!” A girl with twins sections of her hair in loops calls. “ _Aang_!” She jerks her head towards the igloo, like if she just gets him hidden again, Zuko will forget he was ever there. 

Meanwhile, the Water Tribe warrior has started thrashing wildly in Lieutenant Jee’s grasp. “AANG, RUN!” he yells. He manages to land a kick on Lieutenant Jee’s knee, which causes Lieutenant Jee about as much damage as a passing breeze and conveniently leads to the Water Tribe warrior stubbing his toe on Lieutenant Jee's metal armor.

“I have proof,” the “Avatar” tells Zuko, serenely ignoring the twin looks of betrayal from the Water Tribe warrior and the girl. 

With an odd arm movement, he summons what looks like a whirling ball of wind, which he climbs onto as though it's nothing more than a komodo-rhino. Perhaps mistaking Zuko's blank look as disinterest and not shock, the "Avatar" circles him while balancing on the wind-ball to further demonstrate.

As the “Avatar” passes by Lieutenant Jee, the Water Tribe warrior lunges towards him, trying to grab onto the child’s robes, but the “Avatar” just dodges out of the way, laughing and saying something about how Suka doesn’t need to worry, everything's going to be fine.

The “Avatar” comes to a stop a meter or so away, and jumps off of his ball of wind. “Is that enough proof for you?” he asks. “Would you like to see my marble trick, too?” 

Zuko glares. “You could just be an airbender, and not the Avatar,” he points out. “The Avatar is supposed to be _old_ , not a little kid. Also, even if the previous Avatar died, the Avatar cycle means that the next Avatar would be a waterbender, not another air nomad.”

“Oh, I was stuck in an iceberg for a hundred years!” The “Avatar” tells him cheerfully. 

Zuko blinks, then decides to simply… put that aside for a moment. “If you’re the Avatar, you should be able to bend all of the elements, not just air.” 

“I’ve only learned airbending,” the child shrugs apologetically. 

Zuko hesitates, then says, “But you _can_ learn.” He thinks of his early lessons with Master Haruhi, back before he’d grown used to the pain of the fire whip. He thinks, too, of his lessons with Uncle Iroh when he had to relearn firebending entirely. “Firebending comes from the breath. Firebenders have an inner flame that we carry in our chests, and we can feed or stifle it with our breathing. Try taking a deep breath, and seeing if you can feel your inner flame growing as you do.” 

“Don’t do it, Aang!” The Water Tribe warrior yells. They both ignore him.

The “Avatar” closes his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. A moment later, he opens them again, beaming. “I felt it!” 

Zuko nods. “Now try channeling that to your hand. Just like your heart pumps oxygenated blood through your body, your chi can carry your inner flame through your body as well. Let it move up your chest as you inhale—” he takes a deep breath in demonstration, “—and then out through your hand as you exhale.” He uncurls his fingers, revealing a tongue of flame. Zuko inhales again, sucking in the air that would feed the fire in his hand, and the tongue of flame obediently extinguishes itself.

The “Avatar” nods, eyes shining brightly, then takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Like this?” The air nomad holds out a cupped hand, a tiny lick of flame dancing in the center of his palm. 

Zuko stares. He feels like he’s just watched Agni rise in the west. “...yes,” he says faintly. 

“How do I put it out?” The ~~“Avatar”~~ Avatar asks. 

“That’s… a more advanced technique than just summoning it,” Zuko says. “I’ll put it out for you.” He lets out a short breath, like blowing out a candle, and the Avatar’s flame disappears, leaving nothing more than a slight smell of smoke. It’s almost like the whole incident never happened. Zuko can almost pretend that the Avatar isn’t an eleven-year-old, entirely too cheerful _child_. 

“ _So cool_ ,” the Avatar gasps. “Thank you so much, Sifu.” He bows. The flame is on the wrong side. _Agni above_ , Zuko thinks, eyes lifting towards the sun. 

“No! Not _so cool_!” the Water Tribe warrior wails. “Katara, make him stop!” 

“Right!” The Avatar grins. “So the deal’s still on, right? I go with you and you don’t burn down the village?” 

“I— yes. On my honor, if you accompany me onto the _Wani_ , I will not burn down this village.” Zuko wonders if he’s having some sort of fever dream. Perhaps the last two years were all one long fever dream, and he’s still recovering from the infection his scar got during those first months on the _Wani_.

“Can I say goodbye first?” 

Zuko hesitates. He knows that the Avatar will likely use it as an opportunity to attempt escape, that Azula or Father would never do such a thing. But Zuko has always been soft, has always been foolish. He sighs. “Please be quick.” 

Zuko gestures to Lieutenant Jee, and he drops the Water Tribe boy. The Water Tribe boy makes a move like he’s going to attack Zuko again (Zuko instinctually angles himself so his right side is in front) but the Avatar grabs him by the arm and tugs him over to where the Water Tribe girl is standing, looking about how Zuko feels. 

The three of them appear to be having some sort of argument. Zuko leans against the hull of the _Wani_. “Am I dreaming?” he asks Satomi lowly.

“If you are, then so am I,” Satomi replies. She’s regarding the Water Tribe boy intently, her eyes narrowing further and further as he makes several expressive gestures with his various foreign weapons. 

The Avatar rejoins them. He’s very nearly skipping. Zuko _wishes_ he were dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up up having less metaphors and fancy writing devices than usual, because Sokka, Katara & Aang just... made it hard for me to do that idk why. However, I think the symmetry between the two groups makes up for it! On both teams Red and Blue you have person A), a self-sacrificing cinnamon roll who is technically in charge, and their two sidekicks, B and C, who are both technically sidekicks but spend a lot of time trying to subtly make Person A make better decisions. Also, as both Person As have little to no self preservation, their Bs and Cs do most of the fighting. I just think that this is very clever of me and someone in the future will write an essay for English Literature on it—
> 
> Speaking of which, don't think I haven't noticed y'all writing paragraphs on whether or not Min is in the right of not! I know I said to discuss but I didn't think you guys actually would, I love it??? 
> 
> Now for the memes!
> 
> Satomi, at Sokka: if you even look at Prince Zuko, I will stomp you to death with my hooves
> 
> Aang, at Sokka and Katara: I do not See it, I am Looking away
> 
> me, rewatching the fight between Sokka and Zuko 500 times to figure out what types of kicks Zuko used: this is a good use of my time


	12. Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko does not know what the procedures for the honorable keeping of prisoners of war are, so he has to wing it. 
> 
> cw: anxiety/panic attacks, implied/referenced self harm, victim blaming

Zuko has spent the past two and a half years preparing for this moment. He has bled and sweat ~~and burnt~~ for this moment. He has dreamed of it so many times that even now he half-suspects that he will jolt awake, tears crusted on his silk pillowcase and sweat dampening the sheets tangled around him. This moment is ingrained into his mind like his katas are engrained into his muscles— learned to the point it is a part of him, beaten into him like a blacksmith beats an edge into hot metal as he makes a sword. 

Despite all of this, Zuko is not ready. Perhaps he needs to bleed and sweat ~~and burn~~ more, dream the usual dreams just a few more times, shed a few more tears, because where there should be an edge, thin and fine and sharp enough to slice through flesh and tendon with the gentlest touch, he only finds a dull rim that’s barely jagged enough to nip at skin. 

He is not ready for many reasons. The reason that his mind is currently caught in like a turtleduck tangled in a fishing net, the reason is making his stomach twist, making his heart pound mouse-rabbit quick in his chest, making his fingers twitch longingly for the turtleduck feather, is that he has not read up on honorable keeping of prisoners of war. 

Even if he knew how his honored dictated he deal with prisoners of war, the situation would be complex enough. _Prisoners of war_ are one thing and _~~eleven-year-old boys~~ Avatars_ are another. But at least then Zuko would have somewhere to start, a basic framework which he could tweak as appropriate; without one, he’s little more than a landlubber set adrift. 

The closest familiar framework is that which details proper etiquette when hosting an honored guest. In the absence of a more appropriate set of social expectations, Zuko falls back on it like a drowning man grasping onto the nearest floating log.

Lieutenant Jee hesitantly asks if he’s going to put the Avatar in chains, voice low as if he’s speaking about their guest behind his back. Zuko’s voice is the same volume as always when he replies in the negative.

Lieutenant Jee’s armor clacks as he stumbles, and more than one person is staring at Zuko. His crew is shooting him more than one incredulous glance— in fact, the only member of his crew who _isn’t_ is Uncle Iroh, who is smiling slightly into his teacup. Meanwhile, the Avatar is looking over his shoulder at Zuko. There’s a strange light in his eyes that, for some reason, makes Zuko’s chest ache, just a bit. Zuko would say that he looks smug, but the expression is too genuine for that. 

“P—Prince Zuko?” Lieutenant Jee asks. It’s not quite a defiance, not quite explicitly questioning his decisions, but it’s closer to one than any other Captain’s subordinates would dare come. Zuko would probably be unhappier about his clear issues with maintaining authority if he didn’t regularly have such terrible ideas.

That being said, Zuko is confident in this particular decision. He’s decided the basic framework of his dealings with the Avatar will be that of a host providing for an honored guest, and honored guests are, generally speaking, not chained up. More pertinently, the Avatar promised that he would come with Zuko, and to clap him in chains after the Avatar gave his word would be a grave insult,

“Prince Zuko?” Crewman Teruko asks delicately. “Where should we take him?” Her gaze is still lingering on the Avatar’s skinny, unbound arms. 

Zuko hesitates. The palace has not hosted foreign guests in many years, but once, as a child, Zuko hid in the guest room traditionally set aside for air nomad diplomats. Underneath the dust that covered the long-unused room, Zuko had seen pots that might have once contained plants. On the walls, there had hung a spattering of paintings, mostly of soothing nature scenes. The closest thing on the _Wani_ to a plant is the fungus in the bathrooms that Lieutenant Jee assigns lazy or disobedient crew members to scrub out as punishment, and the barnacles that cling to the ship’s hull. 

...it’s late in the day, only a few degrees before the night watch begins. Zuko at least knows how to conduct himself with a guest during meals; his father believed any lapse in manners to be an act of intentional disrespect. Once he became Fire Lord, Father ate with his family less often, but it was still a regular enough occurrence that Zuko has about as much experience with formal dining as your average foreign dignitary. 

“We will eat supper in my cabin,” Zuko says. “Please escort him there while I speak to the cook.” Zuko strides away before Lieutenant Jee can make any more disapproving creaking noises. 

The cook has served Zuko for two and a half years without question. He fixed Zuko thin broth when he was lost in the haze of infection. He was the one who heated the mugs of hot milk Lieutenant Jee brought Zuko in the middle of the night, when nightmares kept him awake. When Zuko slips in with requests for spiced milk tea, the cook doesn’t comment on how it’s a commoner’s drink or how Uncle Iroh has boxes upon boxes of carefully blended high brow brews stacked in the hold. 

But this time, when Zuko explains what he wants the cook to make, Cook hesitates, eyebrows rising up his forehead. Zuko shifts uncomfortably. He’d liked the dish as a child, and had figured that what with it being vegan, and having a bland palate, that it would be a good choice to serve the Avatar. But perhaps it’s too difficult to make? He opens his mouth, but Cook is already bowing and making the sign of the flame, so Zuko shrugs aside his doubts and heads back to his cabin. 

The Avatar is in Zuko's cabin, sitting at the small, low table that Zuko and Uncle Iroh share on the nights they eat alone instead of with the crew. His legs are crossed, feet tucked neatly in. Zuko enters, and the Avatar turns quickly to greet him. 

“Hello!” the Avatar says, rising quickly to his feet and bowing. The flame is on the correct side this time; Zuko doesn’t know if the Avatar is unaware that which side it’s on matters, or if one of his crew corrected him. For the sake of his sanity, Zuko hopes that it's the second. “I’m Aang.” 

“...I am Prince Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai,” Zuko returns. 

The Avatar’s eyes widen. “Wow! You’re pretty important then,” the master of all four elements and bridge between the spirit and mortal worlds tells him sincerely. Zuko feels a headache coming on, although it's hard to tell where the different pains are coming from with how much his scar is still aching.

Zuko settles into seiza across from the Avatar, gesturing that he can return to a seated position as well. In doing so, Zuko finds himself at the same eye level as the Avatar. Instead of being forced by their disparate heights to mostly address his chest plate, the Avatar is suddenly looking him in the eye. His eyes are light grey, and entirely too keen; Zuko feels the same disconcerting sense of being entirely too _seen_ , like a mouse-rabbit spotted by an eagle-hawk circling above, that he had often experienced with Azula. 

It doesn’t help that the Avatar is _staring_. He at least has the decency to pretend that he’s not staring at the scar— he’s directed his gaze more towards the center of Zuko’s forehead, probably so he can keep the scar firmly in his peripheral vision while not outright staring at it— but Zuko _knows_ how people are about it, and he _doesn’t like it_. 

“Which s—” the Avatar starts. 

Zuko interrupts him quickly. He doesn’t know what to say, but spirits above, he definitely knows that he doesn’t want to talk about the scar. “Please let me know if there is anything I should be doing to make you more comfortable.” 

“You’ve been a fantastic host so far,” the Avatar tells him cheerfully. “If it’s alright, though, do you think you could tell me a bit more about the Fire Nation? Like I said, I was in an iceberg for a hundred years, so I’m kind of behind.” 

“Er.” Zuko thinks about the skeletons in the air temples and swallows. “Yes?” 

“Is the Fire Nation really at war with the other nations?” the Avatar asks. 

Zuko nods. 

“Why?”

Zuko opens his mouth to reply, then hesitates. Why _are_ they at war with the other nations? As a child, his tutors talked about the March of Civilization, about how the other nations were savages who needed the Fire Nation to help them move forward, but...

Zuko thinks of the Western Air Temple’s swooping spires, the perfectly symmetrical upside down pagodas. Creating the Western Air Temple must have taken immense planning— even with the ability to airbend, designing and a series of buildings that can hang _upside down_ yet still be structurally sound is no small feat. He thinks of the scroll's impassioned defense of pacifism, of veganism, ~~of not hurting your children~~. _The seventh tenet is self-control._

Zuko thinks, too, of sleek, hand-paddled boats weaving in and out of between the floes with ease, of figures balancing on those moving boats and bending galleons upon galleons of water with smooth, flowing movements. He thinks of a nation seeing a small, vulnerable incoming ship with unknown intentions and deciding to turn it aside without so much as a drop of blood shed. He thinks, too, of a Water Tribe warrior charging up a walkway ( _the second tenet is bravery_ ) even though he must realize he’s hopelessly outnumbered.

Zuko thinks of Hyun Jae’s hospitality, of how she allowed him to sit at her fire even as he repaid her kindness with lies. _The third tenet is compassion._ He thinks of the Sentinel, straight-backed and proud, choosing to protect his people even as it meant standing against the rulers of the great Walled City. He thinks of finely woven Earth Kingdom silk as smooth as water, and of a knife engraved with the words _never give up without a fight_.

...he does not think the other nations are savages. 

“I—” his throat is suddenly very tight. He swallows. “I don’t know,” he confesses. 

A shudder runs through him as he realizes what he's done. He's questioned his ancestors, questioned his ruler, thought something _treasonous_. His heart stutters at the thought. Who he is to question his betters? Him, a banished prince, honorless and unloved? Hadn't he just realized that the very foundation of his honor is loyalty to his family? 

Zuko can feel a familiar twisting, ripping sensation inside him, making his stomach ache and his lungs burn, shredding everything that gets in its way. A contradiction— this time between his beliefs and his actions, between what he _should_ have done and what he _did_ do. 

(Guilt and self-loathing eats away at him. After everything, _why_ did he question his betters _yet again_?) 

Zuko closes his eyes. He focuses on breathing through the pain, concentrating even as his hands shake and tingle and his scar _aches_ with phantom pain. When he's finally gathered enough strength, he _pushes_. The best way to explain it would probably be to say that if the contradiction is two beasts fighting against each other, he pulls them apart and locks them away in separate rooms. They fight him the whole way, kicking and biting and ripping, but he grits his teeth again the pain and forces them apart. 

Zuko opens his eyes again. Somehow, without his noticing, the table has been covered in food. The Avatar hasn’t started eating yet, though— he’s just _looking_ at Zuko with those entirely-too-perceptive eyes of his. “Prince Zuko, are you alright?” he asks. 

Zuko’s mouth is too dry to speak, so he simply nods and starts serving himself. His hands are still shaking, but the spread of food is so impressive that he is forced to turn from his self-recriminations to awed musings over how Cook has pulled this off.

He hadn’t realized they had any sweet pickled turnips on the _Wani_ , let alone cucumber-onions or ginger-mangos. Where did Cook even _get_ them? For that matter, how did he manage to procure the jasmine flowers for the cool-soaked rice? Zuko had assumed he would simply smoke the rice with a jasmine scented candle. 

“Excuse me,” the Avatar speaks hesitantly, “But I don’t eat animal products.” 

“I asked the cook to make sure everything was vegan,” Zuko reassures the Avatar quickly. Does the Avatar truly think he’s such an inadequate host?

The Avatar blinks, then smiles. “Oh.” 

The Avatar hesitates, looking at the bowl of cool-soaked rice, then at the balls of taro root and pumpkin-squash. Zuko can practically hear his question— do I put them in with the rice? 

Zuko hesitates as well. Is it rude to explain? It seems like it might be, but it also seems rude to let his guest fumble about blindly. Zuko licks his lips, then clarifies, “You don’t need to put the side dishes in the bowl. They’re bite-sized, so you can just pick one up and eat it without putting it down at all.” 

The Avatar nods. 

After that, Zuko is quiet. Now that the adrenaline is leaching out of him, he feels tired and disoriented. His scar is still aching with the echoes of the Water Tribe peasant’s blow (and from the phantom pain his treasonous thoughts had drawn up in him), his chest still feels tight and cramped from the aftermath of his newest internal contradiction, and his entire body is heavy and slow-moving— it takes all his concentration to keep his hand moving as he slowly devours his rice. 

Several times, the Avatar opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then closes it again. Normally, Zuko would be embarrassed at clearly making his guest so uncomfortable, but right now, he just squints across the table with bleary eyes and is selfishly grateful that the Avatar hasn’t asked about the scar. At least, hasn’t asked about it _yet_. 

Zuko should probably feel happy about capturing the Avatar, but right now, he just feels _tired_. He didn’t sleep at all the previous night— he’d been up keeping watch, and hadn’t had time to go back to sleep before they arrived at the village— and that, combined with the stress of his very long and very confusing day, is enough that there’s nothing he would like much more than a long nap. 

His eyes slip shut and he drifts. He dozes, dreaming of jasmine flowers floating in cool water, of the soft touch of his mother's hand on his cheek, of a thousand small kindly things. When he wakes up, his cheek is resting on a bundle of cloth; someone took a sheet from his bed and folded it into a pillow. He blinks blearily, struggling to remember the previous day. He vaguely recalls light and energy, an odd feeling at the center of his forehead, a Water Tribe village, and a young airbender— _the Avatar_. Where’s the Avatar? 

Nothing quite feels real as he stumbles to his feet and glances around. The Avatar is nowhere to be seen. On the table, next to an almost-finished bowl of cool-soaked rice, is a piece of parchment with a childish scrawl angling across it. 

_Thank you so much for your hospitality! I would love to learn more with you, but I can’t quite yet. I hope you feel better soon!_

Is it only through sheer willpower that Zuko does not simply turn around and go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For personal reasons, I'm having an existential crisis about the passage of time. Adults still get to ask for help, right? Discuss. That's right, I'm giving you guys discussion prompts now. >:) 
> 
> Right, I have more relevant things to add to these end notes! Firstly, I want to acknowledge the cultures I'm pulling influence from for this fic. The food served in this chapter is heavily inspired by Thai cuisine, particularly the "cool-soaked rice", which is inspired by khao chae. For a bit of context as to why the cook was so shocked, khao chae was traditionally not available to the public, and I'm figuring it's the same deal with the Fire Nation. Zuko basically just gave his enemy the royal family's secret recipe. Sort of not really but it's funny so I'm going to say it anyway. 
> 
> The bit about spiced milk tea is a reference to chai. I feel like considering the amount of spices, chai would fit really well into Fire Nation cuisine, so I headcanon that chai is the traditional tea for the Fire Nation, but nobility + the wealthy drink Earth Kingdom style tea, which is much bitter and bland. 
> 
> Meme time!
> 
> Katara + Sokka and the Entire Crew of the _Wani_ , at the same time: OH MY GOD YOU IDIOT STOP TALKING TO THEIR IDIOT AND DEFINITELY DO NOT BEFRIEND THEM YOU FOOL *makes awkward eye contact with the other group* ...
> 
> Huojin and Hawker Genji, actively going along with Real, Actual Treason: lmao we did a treason :))
> 
> Zuko, accidentally thinking one (1) mildly treasonous thought: fuck I can't believe I've done this
> 
>   
> Zuko, literally in the middle of a dumb decision: wow I make a lot of dumb decisions huh. also this decision? not at all dumb no siree
> 
> edit 9/13/2020: by now a lot of you guys have probably noticed that I have, ah, broken my usual update schedule. There's a couple of reasons for this-- 1.) I watched BNHA a few chapters before I stopped and it made writing so much more difficult because the vibes are _so. different._ 2.) I have a BNHA fic idea and it made me,,, distracted (lmao I'm posting this update bc I'm thinking of posting the bnha fic soon and if one of you guys shows up in the comments like 'where's my Honor Among Thieves update' I am going to... idk what but have Some type of reaction), 3.) my upload schedule tbh wasn't that sustainable in the first place, 4.) the mindset I have to be in to write language this metaphorical/flowery is pretty specific, and if I'm not in that it's much more difficult to write + turns out worse, and I'm not in that mindset at the moment and 5.) school started (albeit that isn't as good of an excuse since it started like a week ago but shhhh.) 
> 
> I don't intend to abandon this (although I can't make any definitive promises because I don't know what the future holds). I still have the entire thing plotted out, complete with shenanigans so shenanigan-y that I truly doubt my shenanigan-loving brain will allow me to never write them. I also genuinely really love this story and feel like the themes are very close to my heart (I, too, second guess all of my actions and at times try too hard to be as moral as humanly possible). 
> 
> TL;DR Basically, I'm not in the right mindset for this fic at the moment, but I plan on getting back to it when I am again. Thank you all for your wonderful, amazing, heartwarming comments (second edit: and for the two and a half thousand kudos, what the _fuck_ ) and for your understanding. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Little Dragon Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25952110) by [Lavenderdrake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavenderdrake/pseuds/Lavenderdrake)




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